The phone rang.
He glanced at the caller identification and frowned before activating the phone. “Hi, Judith. It’s been a while.”
“They’re gone, Fil.” Her voice quavered.
He felt his insides go numb as he stared at the phone.
The Alliance had provided round-the-clock volunteer observation of Sarah and Anna since Gena’s discovery five years earlier. The surveillance wasn’t intrusive; Alliance members stayed in nearby houses, dined at nearby restaurant tables, walked on nearby streets. It was enough to detect unfamiliar Energy moving toward Sarah or Anna.
Judith and Peter had monitoring duty that day. They’d likely gone to get lunch, stepping away as so many had during the long days of dullness.
When they’d returned to check on the house, they’d found nothing.
“Did they go out?” He tried to keep his voice steady, tried to find a logical explanation that had a positive ending.
“There was a note, Fil.”
His phone buzzed. He glanced down, pulled up the image she’d sent. A handwritten note.
Lost something? We’ll be in touch.
Fil hung up the phone. His breathing had gone shallow, his eyes wide, his pulse racing.
They’d taken Sarah and Anna.
There was a knock at the door. He was on his feet in an instant. “Come in.”
The receptionist walked in, holding a package. “This was just delivered for you, sir. The note said it should be delivered immediately.” She paused, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Fil nodded once. “Thank you.” He couldn’t keep the strain from his voice.
She sat the package on his desk, eyeing him with a look of concern. She opened her mouth as if to question him again, then decided against it. She left, closing the door behind her.
Fil pounced on the package, tearing the box apart. The tablet computer inside had a note as well. Say please.
Fil opened and closed his mouth twice before he could croak out the word. “Please.”
The screen activated, and Fil found himself staring into the eyes of death.
“Hello, Mr. Trask.” The crazed eyes were streaked red. “I seem to have found something of yours.”
He stepped aside, and Fil’s heart threatened to explode from his chest.
Sarah and his six-year-old daughter, Anna, were strapped down on side-by-side gurneys, their mouths stuffed with rags. But their eyes, wide with terror, told him everything he needed to know.
“What do you want?” His voice was no more than a whisper.
“Want?” The man laughed, a sound that sent chills down his spine, and he moved in front of the camera once more. “I have what I want, Mr. Trask.” He smiled at the screen. “Control over you.”
Fil’s breathing accelerated.
“Oh… I almost forgot.” The man smiled. “You want what I have here, don’t you?”
“Who are you?” Fil asked through clenched teeth.
The man laughed, and the streaks of red seemed more prominent. “Worried about my name? At a time like this? And here I thought I understood your priorities better than that.” He shook his head, stepped aside, gave Fil another brief view of his whole world before moving back in front of the screen. “My name is Abaddon.”
“Abaddon.” The name was etched forever in his mind. “Sarah, Anna, I will find you. I will see justice brought to this man who dared threaten you.” He turned his attention back to the red-eyed man. “Give me back my family, Abaddon.”
“Your pithy little speech suggests that you don’t really understand the situation here, Mr. Trask. You see, I already have your wife and daughter. Here. But you don’t know where here is, do you? I have access to advanced technology, just as you do. We could be anywhere in the world. But where might that be, Mr. Trask? And can you get here before I enforce the Aliomenti punishments you’ve earned for them?”
The sound of the dual blades leaving the scabbard sent him over the edge. “Tell me where they are!”
“Tell you? I think not.” He paused. “Don’t forget to bring that tablet with you.”
The screen went blank.
But not before an image flashed on the screen.
He recognized the reconstructed skyline, the iconic image of the statue in the harbor, and knew where they’d gone. They’d had plenty of time to travel from the interior of the country to the coast. He had the image he needed, though. Thinking of nothing but destroying the man called Abaddon, Fil teleported to middle of Times Square in New York City.
He looked around, ignoring the looks of shock of the humans wandering across the Square. Where could Abaddon be? Where were Sarah and Anna? His Energy surged, delighting in the broiling emotions.
The tablet buzzed. He glanced down. The image of Sarah and Anna appeared, straining against their bonds, looks of pleading upon their faces. He tried to call out to them, but the connection went blank again, after flashing another location image. The bridge and clock tower gave away the location. It was a massive jump, one he’d not tried before, but given the circumstances, given the fact that he needed to free his wife and daughter and slaughter the man who’d threatened them, he’d take his chances. He focused on the image and teleported once more.
He looked around. Video screens dotted the buildings in the vicinity, displaying live news footage of a city in ruins. He looked away, trying to figure out where Abaddon had gone. He spotted a door fluttering in a non-descript building, as if someone had just fled inside. He ran toward the door, sprang through the opening, prepared to lock Abaddon up until he’d freed Sarah and Anna, removed the gags, ensured they weren’t physically harmed.
The building was empty.
Fil felt his blood boil as his Energy ratcheted up, matching the rage he felt in that instant. He punched the wall, and his fist went through to the outside. When he pulled it back, he ignored the blood and drywall dust and brick fragments and pain.
The tablet buzzed again.
“You fool,” Abaddon whispered. “Do you really think I’ll let you catch me?” He laughed once more, a maniacal laugh, and he touched the edge of the blade to his arm. A thin red line appeared. “I keep my weapons honed to a fine edge for special occasions such as this.”
The screen went blank once more, with another scene.
Fil roared, a sound that continued as he appeared in Paris an instant later. He spun around, looking for clues, barely noticed the lack of interest his sudden appearance registered in those around him. The televisions were on, people gathered around, banners about a massive explosion in New York, breaking news tickers announcing a similar explosion. He didn’t have time to worry about that. Where were Sarah and Anna? Where was Abaddon?
The tablet buzzed once more. An instant later, he was in Moscow, ignoring the bitter chill of the wind, looking around. He was once more disappointed. Why would Abaddon hint to his location, only to fail to tell him where he’d gone?
Fil stopped, ignored the tablet briefly, and tried to focus on Anna’s Energy sound, a deep, beautiful string-like sound reminiscent of a cello. He couldn’t hear her sound.
The tablet buzzed. Fil looked.
“Your failure to answer my call is disappointing to me,” Abaddon whispered. He stepped aside, moved to the gurneys, slid the flat edge of the blade along Anna’s tear-streaked cheek. “Perhaps I’ve not made clear the seriousness of your situation.”
The tablet went blank, flashing the city image once more. Fil roared in fury, and was in Cairo an instant later.
And then he was in New Delhi.
Shanghai. Manila. Sydney. Honolulu. Vancouver. He stopped to breathe, to try to take a measure of Anna’s Energy at each city, but heard nothing, felt nothing. His despair, his anger, his rage, grew louder and stronger with each roar as he left one city for another.
San Francisco. Denver. Chicago. Dallas. Mexico City.
He stopped, bent to the ground, exhausted on so many levels he didn’t know if he could continue. How was Abaddon m
oving so quickly, leaving him behind? What technology let him move from city to city as fast as Fil?
Lima. Sao Paulo. Caracas.
“Stop!” His scream interrupted Abaddon’s taunts. He sucked in huge gulps of air, sweat pouring from his back in the warm equatorial sun. “Why are you doing this? How are you doing this? How are you moving, how are you moving them, so quickly?”
Abaddon’s laugh of pure glee startled Fil. “Move, Mr. Trask? Why… I’ve not moved at all since we started our little game.”
Fil stared at the screen, his mind slowing down, and he realized that the images of the cities never suggested Abaddon, Sarah, and Anna were there. He’d been led on a teleportation hop around the world, chasing a moving target that had never moved.
Abaddon snickered. “Finally figured it out, did you? Ah, the wonders of Internet image searches.” He shook his head. “But I must say, Mr. Trask, that you’ve helped me accomplish a major life goal of mine. Therefore, I’ve decided to help you as well.”
He slid away from the camera, walked back toward the gurneys, blades glinting in the artificial light in the room. “You see, Mr. Trask, I am the Aliomenti Assassin. I have one job, and only one job. It is my duty to execute human scum at the whim of my Leader. Lowly creatures, humans, aren’t they? They contribute little but cheap labor, live short lives of quiet desperation, and then die, having left behind nothing copies of their worthless selves. People like you and me, we’d be better off on this planet if all of them were gone. Perhaps I’ll see that goal met in the near future, Mr. Trask.”
He paused. “But you see, I have a job to do. My job is to execute humans who have violated the Oaths. My job is also to execute current and estranged Aliomenti who have violated the Fourth.” He glanced down at Anna, slid the flat edge of the blade over her cheek once more. “People like you, Mr. Trask. But for some reason, reasons I will never be told, the Leader wanted the two of them captured. Wanted them as bait to bring you to our island. Told me to stand down, even though I’m the one who found you, learned of your wife, discovered that neighbors had seen your daughter flying and teleporting around your back yard.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t allow that, Mr. Trask. And so, when the Hunters took advantage in a lapse in judgment by your silly little team of observers to throw a dampering net over your daughter and haul them away… well, I fear I may have been forced to hijack their ship and kick them out the door. Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be fine.” He chuckled. “And they’ll get over their disappointment. But they’ll not deny me the right to do what I was made to do.”
His eyes took on a dreamy look. “But Mr. Trask, as I’ve said, you’ve helped me. And I want to help you. I will tell you exactly where I am, and where they are. Just once.” He straightened. “It will be my gift to you, the chance to save them.”
He raised both long knives up into the air and plunged them down, directly into the hearts of Sarah and Anna. Blood spurted forth, and Fil screamed. The Assassin laughed, a maniacal laugh, and then vanished.
The location flared up on the screen.
The Atlantic Ocean, near the Caribbean. On a boat. The name Abaddon spray painted across the top. Fil concentrated. He felt the teleportation hop this time as he never had before, felt every cell in his body disappear here and reappear there, the sense of displacement one that he felt in his mind as his surroundings instantly differed from what his mind experienced. The minds of teleporters never truly adapted to the ability, did they? Never grasped that teleportation was as natural as walking, just faster and with less scenery. In an instant that seemed like hours, he stood aboard on the floating tomb. And he heard Anna’s cello-like Energy sound. It was quiet, faint as it had never been before, not even in the womb.
He saw the note on the door.
They’re in here.
He flung the door open and rushed inside.
He could smell the coppery scent of blood, the stink of the sweat of fear, and a scent he’d never before experienced, one that wrinkled his nose and crushed his soul. Abaddon was gone, his Energy sound of fingernails on a chalkboard hanging faintly in the air.
Fil ignored that.
He saw nothing but the two gurneys, side by side, the blood dripping off the table holding Sarah, Anna’s arm hanging limply over the side.
He held their bodies, already growing cold, as he poured every bit of Energy he could find into them, pleading with them to heal, to recover, to fight, to live. He continued for ten minutes before he knew they’d never again draw breath, continued an hour more even after that, until he’d drained every bit of moisture from his body through his eyes.
He stopped and let go of them, letting them rest gently against the bloodstained white sheets covering the small beds.
Their faces were shockingly serene. They’d trusted him, believed him when he said he’d come for them.
And he’d failed them. Failed them to such a profound degree that he’d arrived too late to save them or to dole out a fitting punishment to the man who’d done this.
Now, his wife and daughter were dead. His reasons for existence were no more.
He wasn’t worthy to continue to draw breath.
The grief tore him apart, all efforts at Shielding and containment lost to a desire to destroy himself, to end his worthless existence.
With a scream of sheer agony reminiscent of his Energy-less father outside the burning home forty years earlier, Joshua Philip “Fil” Stark let loose every bit of Energy in his body.
X
Selfless
2070 A.D.
The chatter had escalated in recent weeks. The Aliomenti had located a high-profile member of the Alliance living among humans, and would soon launch an attack to capture the fugitive. The details were scarce. They didn’t know who it might be, or how the Hunters would handle the capture.
Gena’s intuition told her the target. She wouldn’t let them capture her nephew, wouldn’t even let them make the effort, not if she could do something to prevent it. They needed more information.
That meant she’d return to Aliomenti Headquarters Island and resume her role as Marjorie. It would be her last foray there in that role; exposure was less a concern if she could locate the information she needed.
Sunlight gleamed brightly from a cloudless sky as she swooped in and over the island. She made her way from her usual landing point to Marjorie’s home in the pre-dawn hours, slipped into the woman’s home, and used the sleeping mist to ensure that Marjorie stayed asleep. It was strange, though, that Marjorie still slept. She’d normally be up and preparing for work.
A quick scan of Marjorie’s thoughts revealed the reason. Marjorie would head to work today, not to perform her usual chores, but to undergo her exit interview. She’d board a boat with others who had completed their “internships” and return to the mainland, reuniting with family and friends there.
Gena frowned. That presented a problem. It didn’t take much imagination to realize that “exit interviews” gave the Aliomenti the opportunity to erase memories of the time spent on the island, and dull the mental acuity of the departing humans. The former made those leaving a non-threat if they made it to the mainland.
The latter helped ensure that outcome was unlikely.
She’d already undergone the physical transformation, but she knew she couldn’t go to Headquarters as Marjorie today. The Aliomenti wouldn’t be able to alter her memories, would instantly recognize the spy in their midst, and her ability to leave the island would be severely compromised.
She reached back into Marjorie’s mind and removed the “memories” of the day she’d planted there, wondering if the Aliomenti would notice the mental tampering when they did the same later that day.
She then slipped out of the house and walked back toward her ship to consider her next move.
She didn’t like being away from the Cavern. The time spent there invigorated her in a way that couldn’t be reproduced Outside. In recent years, she’d been working with Angel and Adam
on technology that would evolve into the time machine. She couldn’t think of two people she’d more prefer to work with. Angel had a positivity to her personality that was contagious.
And Adam was… Adam.
The revelation of her origins and the fact that he’d actively worked to hide the truth from her had jarred her for several years, and she’d avoided him in anger. But her anger subsided over time. Over the past decade she realized that he’d done far more than necessary to save her life on multiple occasions, had tried to save Mark, had ensured she’d survived her slip of information to Porthos so long ago.
She’d spent sufficient time in the Cavern to understand the deification of Will Stark that had occurred since his disappearance three quarters of a century earlier. If everyone knew she was Will’s sister—and his twin sister, no less—the burden of expectation placed upon her would have been unfair, especially during her neophyte stages of life and Energy development. She longed for the day when she might see her brother once more and know him for who he was, and have him understand who she truly was as well. It might take a century or longer, but she’d wait.
And she’d have Adam to keep her company. Even if he only saw her as a friend. She blew on the hair above her eyes. His one fatal flaw, his inability to notice her, would drive her mad.
Right now, though, she had no time for self-pity. She had a job to do. They needed information on the where and the when and the how, needed to get that information to Fil so that he could be prepared. In part, they needed to succeed in thwarting the impending attack because Fil’s power was so enormous that they had no idea how much damage he might cause if such an attack succeeded.
A rumbling sound echoed in the distance, just at the far edge of her enhanced range of hearing. She turned to the east to look, squinting, frowning, trying to understand what she was seeing. Was it a rainstorm? No, the darkness was too ominous to be a mere thunderstorm. Was it a hurricane? It couldn’t be. Hurricanes didn’t burst forth in this part of the world; they formed thousands of miles to the east and traveled west. No weather agency—human, Alliance, or Aliomenti—had identified active hurricanes.
Aliomenti Saga 6: Stark Cataclysm Page 12