“Jon doesn’t want to leave his girlfriend and go to the Farm. I think he and Dad are coming up with a compromise of some sort.”
“Does that mean you all are heading out to the Farm?” I asked.
“Uh, I don't think so.”
I headed toward the noise, thrown off by his lack of concern. My hand itched for my gun, but I forced myself to peer around the corner into the living room.
Logan had Jonathan shoved into a wall. Each of them had a death grip on a spear. Jonathan tried to shove Logan off. He nearly succeeded, so Logan switched tactics. Instead of crushing the spear shaft across his son's chest, he pulled it forward, throwing Jonathan off balance. Before I knew it, Jonathan was pinned to the floor.
“Dad, I’m heading to class,” Gerald called from the kitchen.
“Sure thing,” Logan said, never taking his eyes off Jonathan.
Gerald took off, but I was frozen to the spot. I'd never seen Logan fight with his son. I'd never seen anyone fight with a spear. Who the hell fights with a spear?
Logan said something I didn't understand, and both men stopped struggling.
“Nice work,” Logan said, pulling Jonathan to his feet.
“You disarmed me,” Jonathan said. I looked around and noticed a spear sticking out of the wall next to the stairs.
“Yeah, but I've had more practice. Unless you run across an elf, centaur, or some big guy, you'll be good. You see a minotaur, you run the other way.” Logan turned to me while Jonathan dug his spear out of the wall. “Howdy.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said.
“We were finishing up,” Logan said.
“We have a job,” I said.
Logan nodded and looked around the room. “Let's go ahead and leave these out,” Logan said, motioning to the spears. “Tomorrow, we'll go to the range and start gun training.” Logan turned to me again. “Let's saddle up.”
“Vincent's on his way. Grab your stuff and I'll meet you at my house.”
Surprisingly, when Logan got to my house, Jonathan was in tow with a spear in hand. Gran raised an eyebrow at Logan and he winked at her.
“We'll talk on the way,” I said, gear in hand. “Gran, anything for us?”
“Check the corners and hide behind something,” Gran said.
“Any idea what we're hiding from?” Logan asked.
“None at all,” Gran said.
Logan took a serious look at Jonathan when he said his goodbyes. They had a short exchange and we were out the door. Vincent arrived while we were checking inventory of equipment, and without a word, he joined us and we headed to the Farm.
At the front gate, the other team met us. We put on our ear bud communicators, pulled up the location, and led the team out.
My stomach flip-flopped as we moved closer to our destination.
“Have you all done this before?” I asked. “I've never been involved in the lead team of a tactical group.”
“Well,” said Logan, “I've led warriors into battle and I've led small groups of people around in the field. I don't expect this to be much different.”
Looking at Logan, I tried to see if he was joking. He led people into battle? My Logan? Logan moved his head and upper body to the beat of a nonexistent song.
“I've led many teams out west. Not that they've enjoyed taking directions from me,” Vincent said. “We'll do fine.”
“Sure,” I said, “I'll follow your lead.”
The trip was forty minutes of stomach-wrenching nerves. My hands started trembling. Vincent suggested that we try to meditate again on the way. It was a distraction that worked. My mind was so preoccupied with fighting that I forgot to be nervous.
Logan pulled us out of our reverie to discuss tactics.
“Let's bring up the aerial imaging again,” Vincent said.
Pulling out my phone, I scrolled out to get an aerial view. Vincent and I leaned over it.
“Only one road in,” Vincent said. “Both vehicles will go straight in. We'll have the guys following us to the right of the building with the heat signatures. We'll pull to the left. Some can search the other outbuilding. We'll take a few agents to cover the back of the building with the heat signatures. We go in through the front. Any objections?”
“Should be four men in the back of the building,” Logan added. “Two at each corner to watch the back and sides. Two men should look over the front in case something slips out.”
Sitting back and listening is not my strong suit, but I knew nothing about this type of operation. I didn't even watch crime shows on TV anymore.
“That leaves four men to search the remaining buildings,” Vincent said.
“There were no heat signatures from the other buildings. Someone might be in the old house, so they could concentrate in that area, and then fan out,” Logan said.
“Sounds logical,” Vincent said. He started doling out orders through the coms unit as we hit the gravel road that led to the area we were infiltrating.
We pulled to a stop and jumped out of the truck. My heart, already beating rapidly, started trying to break out of my chest.
Moving toward our positions was eerily quiet. Only rushed footfalls and the beating of my heart could be heard. The moment I was in place, I signaled Vincent, who was steps away from me. I tapped my forehead. Concern tightened the corner of his eyes, but he nodded and I opened the Path.
The Path came with an ease that I hadn't felt since I met Vincent. I didn't open myself up all the way to it, but what I saw finally made me useful again in the field.
Anxious traces from our team flowed around, as older traces were interlaced. I could see a well-worn path between the house and the barn that Logan, Vincent, and I were about to enter. I quietly relayed the information and Vincent redistributed a few people.
There were other traces, but they were older and harder to explain. Too many Paths flowed through the same area. Some of the Paths held fear, others anxiety, and still others hinted at a twisted dark excitement. The barn itself felt wrong. The wood that enclosed the barn was saturated with despair.
I felt trepidation as I relayed the information and dropped the Path. I didn't want to press my luck and become a liability if the Path overwhelmed my senses.
I didn't want to be in the barn. The feeling was so strong that I almost said it aloud, but where my partners went, I went. I pulled my gun. Vincent did a quiet countdown and the uncertain silence lost out to the yells of agents identifying themselves. I chambered a round and Vincent kicked in the door before the announcement cleared his lips.
Logan and I did a tactical entry, the person to the right of the door inspecting the left arch of the room, the person on the left side sweeping the right arch. Once it was clear, we entered. Vincent was behind us.
Despair leached into my skin the moment we stepped inside. We each moved around the dim barn looking for signs of life. This part of the job I had practice with. It's sometimes hard to root out a Lost from a building. I took in my surroundings, looking for possible suspects or captives. I covered the horse stalls while Logan and Vincent started for the few enclosed rooms.
We were virtually silent. I wanted some noise to push back the bleakness of the barn, but I didn't dare break the silence. I went stall by stall. A few were empty, but in others, I discovered empty cages or chains, along with a horrid stench. By the last stall, I pushed back tears. The Lost were held prisoner here. Kept locked in cages like animals. I was sure of it. Kept locked in cages like animals.
Pushing back the revulsion from the barn was difficult, but it left me with enmity, which propelled me into action.
“Clear,” I whispered. The earpiece would pick up my voice without jarring the others out of their search.
Joining Logan on the other side, we made quick work of the front of the barn. The rooms were similar to the stalls, mostly empty, but with cages and chains latched to walls. Logan's fury increased with each room. In the last one, there were only chains that had been pulled out of t
he wall. There was also blood smeared across the floor. There weren’t many things that I could think of that would be able to pull chains out of the wall like this. It was probably jumping to conclusions, but I hoped that the minotaur took one of the people behind this travesty down and not the other way around. Logan's rage stormed around him and his emotion was intense, but I felt no need to move away. His anger fed my own.
“Clear,” Logan said. He didn't bother to whisper. I don't think he could at this point.
Vincent was at work in the room at the back of the barn. We checked in with him. There was a lot of hay to look through, but it was clear so far. After reminding him to check the corners, as Gran advised, we set to work.
I took deep breaths to try to calm myself before starting a more thorough search. One of the teams from behind the barn came to join us, bringing gloves and evidence bags. The other team joined the search of outbuildings. We took swabs from the bloodied room and bagged them. The cleanup crew would do a better job, but we wanted as much information at our fingertips as we could get. I didn't want to wait around for details.
Searching the cages more carefully, we found them all empty. Logan pointed out a few to be hauled to the truck. We searched one room and found a few scraps of newspaper, which we dumped into evidence bags.
Logan went to search another room and I went to help Vincent.
The room was filled with loose hay and a rusted-out tractor stood to one side.
“I can try to make your search easier,” I said as I entered the room. My power had come easily earlier in the day and I was willing to take the risk now that the building was clear.
“Are you sure you want to try?”
“I need the practice.”
“Well, your search would probably be more thorough than mine.” Vincent had hay in his hair and clothes.
The Path opened as easily as it had earlier. It sent a small thrill through me to feel my power working the way it should. Stronger perhaps, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It didn't take long for the despair of the barn to settle in around me. Miserable blues and anguished blacks wrapped themselves around everything. They seemed to reach out to me, wanting to be acknowledged. I took a steadying breath and gently pushed this aside. I was looking for something fresher, a Path made by a living creature that was still here.
At first, the darkness stubbornly refused to be dislodged, but with soft nudges, it receded enough for me really to study the Path. It didn't take long to pick up the traces of something small hidden in a corner of the room.
I pointed, “Over there. Small. Could be a survivor.”
Vincent headed directly to where I sent him. Our coms had gone silent. Everyone was waiting to hear more about the possible survivor.
I was so wrapped up in the living readings of the Path that I almost overlooked the inanimate. There were heavy remnants of bad intentions that hung around the object.
“Vincent, wait!”
He didn't listen.
Nothing that dark around an object could lead to anything good. It was a trap and we were falling for it. Vincent reached down. Stupidly, I lunged forward.
“Out of the barn!” I yelled.
The words had barely left my mouth when Vincent lifted a small creature off the ground, but overlooked what it had been standing on. Still deep in the Path, I reached out to the dark energy surrounding us and formed a tight ball of energy around the object on the ground just as it exploded.
Chapter 19
Vincent was knocked back, but somehow he remained standing. The bomb strained underneath my hold, trying to find a way out.
Vincent ran toward me with something small in the crook of his elbow. “Everyone out of the barn!”
“We're clear,” Logan said through the coms.
My grip on the bomb wavered and I looked around wildly. Sweat started to build from the exertion of holding back the explosion. There was only one thing in the room that might be strong enough to survive the blast.
“Behind the tractor!” I yelled.
Vincent grabbed my hand and hauled me behind the tractor. The moment I lost sight of the bomb, my tenuous hold fell away and the explosion ignited the room.
Tightness built in my chest and I looked at our surroundings. A hole had been blown in the side of the barn, which I could only just make out over the flames that engulfed the remains of the room.
Logan's frantic voice came over the coms. “Cassie!”
I wasn't sure what to say. Exhaustion weighed me down from the attempts to hold off the blast. The heat of the flames was pressing in on us. Our exits were blocked by fire.
“Cassie!” Logan yelled again.
“We're here, Logan,” Vincent said in an even voice.
“Get out here!” Logan yelled.
Vincent gripped my hand. The creature he held in his arms shifted. There was fire everywhere I looked.
I couldn't lose Vincent, and we couldn’t lose the small survivor he held.
“We’re surrounded by fire,” Vincent said in a steady voice through the coms. He looked at me and I could see distress in his eyes. “There's a way out, Cass, but it won't be pleasant.”
I knew he was talking about walking between the worlds.
“That’s not an option.” Logan’s voice sounded fierce.
Smoke started to fill the area. I coughed and Vincent squeezed my hand. Trying to make my overwrought mind work, I looked around, trying to think of another way out.
“It’s okay,” I said trying to push back the fatigue. What worked for the bomb might work with flames. “There's more than one way out. Do you have a good hold of our survivor?”
“I’ve got him,” Vincent said.
“Trust me and stay close.” Still clutching Vincent’s hand, I plunged into the fire, heading straight for the barn door.
The trick worked a second time. Who knew that a monster picking me up and grinding me into a cliff face would save my life later? Twice today, I was able to mimic the creature’s trick by manipulating the Path. Twice it had saved our lives. The bubble of energy surrounding us dropped the moment we were out of the fire. Using one arm, Vincent had to half hold me up as we exited the smoke filled barn. In the other, he still cradled our survivor. The Path fell away. I wasn't strong enough to hold it open anymore.
Agents ran up as we moved away from the fire.
Logan grabbed the bundle from Vincent. Vincent didn't protest. He did seem surprised however, that another agent clapped him on the back before grabbing my arm. The agent let me lean heavily on him, helping me to the back of the truck where Logan stood. It felt like all energy had been wrung from me. At the back of the truck, the doors were opened. I sat to one side, out of the way, and leaned to support myself.
As stoic professionals, the other agents finished searching the other buildings. I could sense the unsettled feelings twisting through the area.
Now that all were accounted for, we started assessing the damage. Logan had a first aid kit opened and was checking over the survivor.
A pixie stared up at us. He was about a foot tall with a head that looked too large for its frame. Iridescent wings sparkled in the light, but didn’t move. Skin sluggishly tried to camouflage itself against Logan. The pixies protuberant eyes were wide, but he didn't try to run away.
“It's going to be okay,” Logan said. “You're safe now.”
No movement came from the pixie. The last time I had an encounter with pixies they tied my shoelaces and hair into knots, dumped honey on me, and tied me to a tree. Despondence was not in their nature. One of his wings appeared battered, but he was alive.
“You,” I pointed at one of the other agents, “make sure the doctor is on his way.” He nodded and relayed the message. He gave a thumbs up and continued to relay details as the all clear came from the final outlying building.
Logan called someone else over and told them to take care of the pixie.
“I'll take him from here,” the agent said. “We can continue fir
st aid treatment.”
“He has a broken wing,” I said as Logan passed the bundle over, “and he isn't responding.”
“Could be hearing damage,” the man said. “We'll check it while waiting for the doctor.”
Logan turned his eye on me, assessing damage, and I turned mine on Vincent. He had cuts, bruises, and a nasty looking burn on one arm, which was being wrapped by someone. Once the man was finished, he looked me over, nodded to Logan, and then went to help with the pixie.
“What happened in there?” asked Logan.
I turned off my coms unit and turned to Logan who did the same.
“It was a trap,” Vincent said. “Cassie pointed out the pixie. He was alone. I thought he was trying to hide at first, but he wasn't camouflaging himself. I didn't notice that he was sitting on a bomb. The moment I lifted him up, the explosion went off.”
Logan lowered his voice. “There's no way you could have survived a bomb explosion. Last I heard, Walkers aren't immortal, and I sure as hell know that Readers aren't.”
Vincent looked at me. I slumped down further into the back of the truck.
“Remember that thing that attacked me at the Sanctuary when I was there with Rider? It threw me up and ground me into the rocks using its power. It was the first thing that came to mind. I tried it and it worked.”
“That got us out too,” Vincent said.
Logan looked at me with an unreadable expression. “Have you told anyone at the office about your power changing?”
I shook my head and stifled a yawn.
“I think it will be better for everyone if we leave this out of the reports. At least for now.”
I was too worn out to disagree. Besides, if Logan thought it would be better, I'd follow his lead.
“Someone knew we were coming. The heat signatures were here this morning,” Logan said.
“They cleared out fast,” I added.
“They didn't want us to find anything,” Vincent said. “We wouldn't have if that pixie had moved.”
“They probably thought we'd find the survivor sooner,” Logan said. “Pick up the survivor, trigger the bomb.”
A.I.R. Shattered Soul Page 16