by Elana Brooks
Steve stepped through the bathroom door and pushed the room door closed, finding a similar map on its back. He studied it, the seconds ticking away with escalating urgency in the back of his mind. Had Rosalia found Carlos yet? Maybe she’d already gotten the detonator away from him or destroyed it. Maybe this laser-focused activity and the panic in his gut were no longer necessary.
He had to assume they were. He traced a path through the corridors with an astral finger, memorizing the turns. It would be shorter to smash through walls in a straight line, but it would take longer. He needed to get the C-4 clear of the building as quickly as possible. If he could carry it a mile or two up before Carlos set it off, or even better out over the ocean, no one would get hurt. The force of the explosion would pass harmlessly through his astral flesh.
Keep Angel’s goons away. I’m heading out.
Gotcha. Adrian’s mental voice was quiet and steady. Good luck.
Steve sent wordless acknowledgement, the mental equivalent of a grunt, and lifted the block of C-4 from the bucket as smoothly as he could manage. He opened the bathroom door, floated the bomb into the room, then maneuvered the bathroom door closed and the room door open, cursing the close confines and the ineptitude of whoever had designed such an awkward arrangement.
He hesitated on the threshold, frowning at the hallway. Only a few people were moving around on this floor, but if even one spotted the floating package and decided to investigate, they could slow things down fatally. Steve kept the C-4 in the shadowed doorway while a lab-coat-clad doctor hurried past, then eased it into the corridor and raised it to just under the ceiling. With luck, no one would look up.
He set off as fast as he dared, pushing the bomb before him. He needed to pass the room next door where the orderly was humming as she worked, turn right, zip down a long straight stretch, then turn right again and go through the first empty room he found. Most of them had windows. He’d break the glass and take the C-4 out until it was clear of the building, then straight up into the safety of the open sky.
Chapter 26
Present
Rosalia shoved through the automatic glass doors as soon as they opened enough to allow her to pass, ignoring the shouts of the people who’d seen her descend from the sky and glide to a landing. She charged across the small vestibule and waited impatiently for the next pair to crawl apart. Each inch seemed to take hours.
If she could catch Carlos while he was still inside the explosion’s radius, maybe he would hesitate to set it off. She couldn’t be certain, because he’d demonstrated a willingness to sacrifice his life for Angel’s cause, but surely he wouldn’t do so unless it was absolutely necessary. If she could accost him, get him talking, and delay him just a short while, Steve would have time to get the bomb out of the building and away from his vulnerable body.
Of course, that meant putting her own body at risk. The back of her neck prickled as she squeezed sideways through the widening crack and into the lobby. How much C-4 had Carlos planted? Enough to bring the whole building down? The vision had shown a smaller explosion, but it might not be literal. Steve might have discovered the answer by now, but he couldn’t tell her as long as Angel was still blocking telepathy in the area.
It didn’t matter. Rosalia scanned the open space in front of the reception desk and the dozen or so doors and hallways opening into the wide foyer. No telling which direction Carlos would come from. Undoubtedly there were other exits from the building, but the vision had shown him emerging from this one. If she waited here, he’d have to pass where she could see him.
She stationed herself beside the door and kept her eyes moving around the room. A man approached the doors, but he was rotund, at least fifty, and blonde where he wasn’t bald. She let him pass. It was possible to create illusions with psychic abilities, but usually not convincingly enough to fool anyone who was paying attention. If Carlos was skilled enough to disguise his appearance so thoroughly even to her intently searching eyes, they were lost already.
Two women passed, then another man. A woman entered, leading a little girl by the hand. Rosalia sucked in her breath. Should she warn them away? For that matter, should she grab the security guard who was looking at her suspiciously and demand that he order an evacuation of the building? Carlos could easily escape in the chaos…
She almost missed him. Only the slight oddity of a uniformed janitor, cap pulled down to shadow his face, bearing a bulging red plastic bag full of garbage out the front doors, instead of some rear exit by a dumpster, alerted her in time.
She stepped into his path. “Carlos, listen to me. You can’t do this.”
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He did a reasonably good job affecting an American accent, but his word choice was a touch too formal and diction a bit too precise to be authentic. “The truck will be here to pick up the sharps in a few minutes. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“You might as well drop the act, Carlos. I know what you’re up to.” Rosalia raised her voice. “Officer, arrest this man! He’s a terrorist that just planted a bomb and he’s going to set it off as soon as he’s clear!”
The security guard started toward them, momentary consternation replaced by determination. Carlos dropped the garbage bag and lunged forward. Rosalia spread her arms to block him, raising telekinetic energy to shove him back. He met her attack with a powerful shove of his own, threw an arm around her neck with choking force, and whirled to face the guard. “No closer, or I kill her.”
Rosalia struggled for breath and fought to drag his arm from her throat physically and psychically. But his telekinesis was nearly as strong as hers, and his muscles were stronger. Her vision darkened, and her control over her psychic powers slipped.
Carlos’s voice seemed to come from a long distance away, though his breath was hot on her ear and his chest vibrated against her back. “Everyone stay calm, and no one will get hurt.” He backed up, dragging her with him through the first set of sliding doors. “I’ll release her as soon as I reach my car.”
They emerged through the second set of doors into the morning sunlight. Carlos kept going. Rosalia twisted and jerked and threw every ounce of telekinetic energy at him she could muster, but she was getting dizzier and the world was growing dimmer by the second. Carlos shifted his grip and she sucked in one precious gasp of oxygen, but his arm tightened again and once more she was strangling.
They were halfway across the parking lot. Carlos’s free hand plunged toward his hip and came up holding an innocuous-looking remote control. A single gray button poked from the center of a black plastic rectangle. An indicator light blinked green.
Terror and strength surged through Rosalia’s body. Wrenching around, she grabbed his wrist with both hands. She hauled energy from the astral plane and lassoed his stabbing thumb, freezing it an inch from the button.
Carlos murmured in her ear as his telekinesis battled hers. “I know you can’t see it, but I’m doing you a kindness. Though unfortunately your lover must die, this way you don’t have to die with him. I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to, Rosalia.”
She didn’t waste energy screaming at him. Instead she focused on his hand. She considered breaking the remote open and ripping the wires loose, but she didn’t dare risk it. There was too great a chance she might inadvertently trigger the signal. Maybe if she pried his fingers open, she could catch it before it struck the ground and hurl it beyond his grasp.
Carlos sighed. “You leave me no choice.” His arm tightened, crushing her throat. Rosalia poured all her strength into dragging it away, but it was no use. The world receded to the end of a long tunnel. Distant buzzing filled her ears. Astral energy slipped from her weakening grasp. Her body refused to respond to her frantic commands.
With her last dregs of consciousness, Rosalia forced her mind to make the necessary adjustment and burst from her body. The disorientation lasted only a moment, but that was too long. When she could focus, her limp body was sliding to the ground and Carl
os was raising the remote, thumb poised.
Rosalia snatched telekinetic energy, knowing it couldn’t reach its target in time. With all the force of her voice, mind, and spirit, she shrieked, “Steve!”
Carlos’s thumb hit the button.
Chapter 27
Present
Steve!
The telepathy block muffled Rosalia’s cry until only a whisper reached his mind, but it couldn’t stop the shaft of terror lancing down their soul bond. Steve didn’t stop to think. He threw every ounce of their combined telekinetic power to envelop the block of C-4.
The explosion struck his resistance so hard he nearly blacked out. A brilliantly incandescent ball hovered in front of him. He wanted to call for help, but he couldn’t spare the attention or energy for even a squeak. The tremendous pressure forced his resistance outward millimeter by millimeter. The glowing sphere grew. He couldn’t hold it much longer.
Suddenly more astral energy poured around the contained explosion, bolstering his. Adrian dropped through the ceiling and took up a station on the far side of the bomb, arms spreading to encircle it, mirroring Steve’s. The pressure was still enormous, but together they could maintain it for a few more seconds.
Rosalia burst through the wall next to him and joined the circle, adding her strength to theirs. Steve grasped her hand. She clung to it. Adrian linked hands with both of them so they ringed the captive sun.
The relief was enough for him to spare a thread of energy for communication. “Your body?”
“With Carlos. I’m sorry.”
He fought the urge to abandon the circle and race to defend her helpless form from their enemy. He couldn’t save her from Carlos if he died because the explosion escaped their control and destroyed his body. For the present instant they were both still alive. He didn’t dare contemplate anything except how to keep that true. It was going to take something very close to a miracle.
He met her eyes, then shifted his gaze to exchange glances with Adrian. Both of them watched him expectantly. He looked past the white-hot ball of the explosion at the long, long, stretch of corridor beyond. “When I say go, push the bomb very slowly that way.” He nodded in the direction he meant, showing them telepathically as well so there could be no possibility of a misunderstanding. They nodded their acknowledgment. Confidence in his leadership flowed to him from both their minds.
He feared he didn’t deserve it, but he’d give everything he had to prove worthy of their trust. He readied his mind to ever-so-slightly shift the rushing torrent of telekinetic energy pouring through him. “One. Two. Thr—“
Another astral shape charged through the wall. Steve choked off his count, bracing to fight with cold, distant despair. This was it, then. They couldn’t fend off even the weakest of Angel’s minions without losing control of the explosion.
The newcomer grabbed his hand and Adrian’s, pulling them apart to insert herself into their circle. “What the hell is that? Or do I want to know?”
“Beverly!” Adrian’s gladness flooded Steve’s mind. “How did you know we needed you?”
“I’ve been feeling you were in trouble since halfway back from the Seraphim ship, but lightspeed is a bitch. I yelled to Rabbi Sensei and the rest of the Eight as I went by, but came straight here. I didn’t expect to find you trying to keep a nuke in a cage.”
Steve gave her a strained grin. “Luckily it’s not quite that bad.” The addition of her impressive strength made their task seem almost manageable, but he couldn’t let the painful hope dawning in his gut divert his focus. “We need to move the explosion out of the building and far enough away to release it safely.” He showed her the plan and received her agreement. “Let’s try this again. One—“
He bit back a curse as more shining astral forms emerged from the walls. He wasn’t going to turn down more Covenant help, even though their predicament was no longer quite so desperate. He opened his mouth to greet Solomon and fill him in on the situation.
He closed it, heart plummeting, when he recognized the two new arrivals. Carlos studied him with wary focus on the right, Robert with relaxed confidence on the left.
Hope died with a mournful whimper. Steve swallowed, buried his grief, and hardened his heart. He would go down fighting. At least the others’ bodies were safe from the explosion. He squeezed Rosalia’s hand. She returned the pressure with enough force to break his bones if it had been his physical hand.
Without preamble, Robert summoned a ball of astral energy and hurled it. Steve slammed Beverly and Rosalia’s hands together and broke from the circle. He whipped up a shield and knocked away the missile, then hurled one of his own. The astral energy responded easily to his thoughts, as always, but he was tired, his limbs heavy, his reactions a hair slower than usual. This wouldn’t last long.
Rosalia fell in beside him. Beverly and Adrian say they can handle the explosion for a while. She sent astral energy streaking toward Carlos.
Steve spared an instant for a jerky nod, then threw his concentration back into the fight. She was there with him, their movements effortlessly coordinated, their thoughts flowing together, a single soul in two bodies. The experience was exhilarating. Whenever he’d seen Solomon and Keiko fight together, and more recently Beverly and Adrian, he’d been impressed at how effective their soul bonds made them. But he’d never come close to understanding the sheer joy of sharing complete communication and unified purpose with the person who meant everything to you, of throwing the utmost effort of two hearts and minds toward the achievement of your shared goal.
For all their strength and skill, Robert and Carlos couldn’t match them. Gradually Steve and Rosalia gained ground. One of Steve’s shots broke Carlos’s tether. He had to fall back while he reattached it. Rosalia took out half of Robert’s head, and he lost precious moments while it regenerated.
Their enemies kept fighting, though, and called in their faceless minions to help them. There were too many for Steve to count in the chaos, but he guessed about ten. Individually they weren’t much, but all of them together reinforcing the two strong fighters made a formidable force. Steve would have despaired if he’d had time for anything other than spotting incoming attacks, blocking them, and launching attacks of his own. He kept a furious storm of astral energy pouring into the ranks of their opponents, destroying swaths of astral flesh and breaking tethers. Angel might win in the end, but he’d make them pay dearly for it.
A pause came in the rhythm of battle. Robert and Carlos backed off, panting. Rosalia moved to Steve’s side, both of them watching their foes, hands upraised.
Beverly’s voice sounded in his mind, impatient. Our turn.
He hated to turn over the fight, but Rosalia and Adrian added their urging to Beverly’s, so he acquiesced. He and Rosalia linked hands and dropped to surround the arrested explosion. After making absolutely certain they’d assumed control, Adrian and Beverly released it and soared to take their places. The transfer was quick enough Robert and Carlos were only beginning to launch an opportunistic attack when the new pair soared to meet them.
Keeping the explosion contained took more energy than fighting, but it was a different sort of work that used different mental muscles, so it allowed them to rest, after a fashion. Steve clutched Rosalia’s hands and they watched Beverly and Adrian fight.
Beverly immediately employed a tactic she’d learned from the Seraphim. She created a ball of gray mist that swallowed Robert and held his astral form motionless. Adrian did the same to Carlos. Steve caught his breath. Maybe they could win this fight, after all.
His hope proved short-lived. The faceless minions threw themselves against Beverly and Adrian. They were little more than a distraction, but by the time the pair dispatched them, first Robert then Carlos broke free of the containment fields, dispersing them into puffs of gray smoke that swiftly vanished.
Steve grimaced. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy for them to figure out how to defeat the fields, but Beverly had taken the knowledge from
Sarthex’s mind, and they must have done the same to her. Or Adrian, whose native psychic powers were weaker. Or perhaps that was another technique Sarthex had given them when they made their traitorous alliance with the Seraphim.
Beverly kept trying to use containment fields as part of her strategy, and for a while it was somewhat effective, slowing Robert and Carlos at crucial moments. But eventually they mastered the art of breaking free so well, each field only held them for an instant. Creating the spheres took enough energy that eventually Beverly abandoned them in favor of more traditional methods.
She and Adrian were slowing, and Steve’s mind ached from keeping constant heavy pressure on the bomb. He started watching for an opportune moment, letting Rosalia know what he intended.
When it arrived, he yelled, “Switch!” Beverly and Adrian dropped into place and took control of the explosion. He and Rosalia launched themselves against Angel, and the battle continued.
Awareness of the burning, shimmering ball had spread throughout the hospital. A crowd of doctors, nurses, and security guards had gathered in the hallway, staring up in terrified consternation. Steve ignored them, his astral form passing through them as necessary. But when the frantically raised voices started calling for an evacuation, he wondered if they could hold out long enough for his body and the rest of the vulnerable patients to be cleared from the building.
He doubted it. A horrible dragging weariness was slowing his limbs. Pulling energy from the astral plane was becoming more and more difficult. He would never willingly yield, but at some point he was going to succumb to exhaustion despite his utmost effort.
One of Rosalia’s shots sliced through Robert’s tether as he was knocking away one of Steve’s. The end slithered out of sight. Steve pounded Robert with ball after ball, hoping to keep him distracted until it went too far for him to catch.