The look on her face was, if anything, serene.
The whole thing didn’t seem real.
Guns came up in the hands of soldiers who stood behind the burning remnants of the three caught in the initial explosion… but Allie’s hand came up that time, as well.
Another curl of light threw the black-armored men backwards, like a bowling ball hitting a triangle of pins.
Three of them slammed into a wall-length window, the first smashing a hole through its center––which shouldn’t have been possible at all, according to the feeds. Made of an impact-proof organic, not glass, the windows should have withstood the force of an armored vehicle driven into them at 100 miles per hour.
Smoke and flame billowed out with the broken bodies.
Again Cass watched in disbelief as the black clad soldiers plummeted to their deaths.
Allie had killed people.
She’d actually murdered people, and not even using a gun, but with her own hands.
Well… in a manner of speaking.
Cass watched in disbelief as her childhood friend, who’d cried when she stepped on a snail once in kindergarten, threw another armored soldier against a wall, likely breaking his neck on the spot. She threw another through the same doorway from which the soldiers had entered. Screams grew audible on the feeds, along with shouts from further away down the corridor.
Cass wondered if the latter came from seers who had gone into the building with her––but everything around Allie herself seemed strangely quiet. Even so, Cass heard the speakers muffled and buffeted by the wind through the broken window, the sound of more explosions and the security sirens going off. Even the drumming sound of the sprinkler system raining down on the corridor added to the sense of unreality.
Then Allie turned, facing the cameras.
Or, more accurately, she turned to face some threat that stood beneath the wall where the cameras lived. Her hand came up again, and that time, it looked like she was attacking the viewers themselves.
The image froze.
The newscaster’s avatar returned, looking deathly serious, and even the slightest bit pale.
“This is the face of the new seer world,” he said grimly. “This is what the terrorists calling themselves only ‘The Rebellion’ have promised us.” The avatar’s face and voice grew cold. “Angry. Merciless. Bent only on killing as many human beings as possible.”
The reporter turned to his companion, who also wore an avatar. The man it depicted looked just as serious as the reporter, sitting stock-still in the adjoining seat.
“With us today is Brent Hollenson, from the Office of Seer Containment,” said the reporter. “Brent, what can you tell us about this disaster? What is happening in the seer world right now? Is this heralding an all-out war with the entire race?”
Brent cleared his throat in his hand.
“We certainly can’t rule that out, David,” he said. “We had hoped that the rumors of a split in the seer community were true… that the seer claiming to be Syrimne and his mate would remain on opposite sides of this war, at least for a while longer.” He coughed into his hand. “Now, as you can plainly see, we have confirmation that not only are they working together, but she is displaying as a telekinetic as well.”
Cass glanced at Jon, rubbing his arm briefly when she saw how pale he looked. He didn’t return her gaze as he continued to stare at the feeds.
“Will we survive two of these telekinetic monsters?” the first reporter said. “Even with modern weaponry? After all, Syrimne alone managed to kill thousands during the first World War… and that was with a good number of seers helping us. Is there anything left of the peaceful alliance we once claimed with them? Or has the whole species gone insane?”
Brent sighed, his voice grim. “I’ll be honest, David. Right now, the governments of the human world are gathering together to discuss that very question. I won’t lie and say things look good right now, though.”
Making his face as grim as his voice, he clasped his hands together on the table.
“There is little doubt that our priority is going to be to kill one or both of these creatures, and soon. The good news is, they do seem to be a mated pair. Which means if we kill only one of them, there is a significantly good chance the other will die, too. Right now, the military will be assessing how to approach the female, as she is clearly the more recently trained of the two.”
He pointed through a replay of the video, using an electronic pointer.
“You see how she is manipulating the telekinetic current, here?” he said, creating a line following the white light coming off Allie’s hands. “We are told by our seer specialists that these markers show a significant lack of control in the use of this power. The male is believed to be older, and therefore in better control of his abilities.”
“Wouldn’t that make her more dangerous, Brent?”
“Well. Yes and no,” the SCARB official said. “It certainly makes her behaviors more erratic and potentially indiscriminate. But a highly-trained telekinetic, I’m told, is far more dangerous to us, for a lot of reasons. Unfortunately, even just to separate the two of them might be tricky at this stage, given the nature of how these animals bond.”
Cass stared at the image of Allie’s face, frozen where it gazed into the imaging device. Her outstretched hand bled white light like a living flame-thrower.
No cameras caught what happened after that, at least none the feeds seemed willing to share, but inside the executive suite of the South American company’s headquarters, at least ten people were reportedly killed.
If the incident hadn’t occurred in the pre-dawn hours, it would have been a lot more, the feeds said––possibly as many as a few hundred.
Eleven of the security guards tasked with protecting the corporate executives died, too. More than double that number were injured, some severely.
That image of Allie facing the camera, eyes glowing, her hand out while a supernatural-looking pulse of white and blue flame left her fingertips, had been the headline image of every feed in the world when they got up that morning.
Or, if not the world, then every feed coming out of the United States, Europe, Asia, the Middle East––and of course, South America.
The newscaster’s avatar shrank down into the corner of the screen as they played it again, shot by shot, narrating each of the deaths.
“…and there you can see Security Chief, Bronson Davies. He died instantly, right before his second in command, Dale Harmond––”
Balidor’s voice rose above the feeds.
“Turn it off,” he said. “Turn the fucking thing off… now!”
Cass looked up from where she sat on the floor, startled.
Balidor never lost his cool. Even when he maybe should lose his cool, he never did. Studying his face now, Cass found herself remembering what Jon told her a few weeks earlier, not long after Allie took off with Revik.
Jon said ‘Dori and Allie had been sleeping together.
Looking at Balidor’s handsome features, she found herself believing it in a way she hadn’t until now. A rush of heat hit her chest, making her jaw clench as her mind tried to picture it. She didn’t know why the thought of him in bed with Allie pissed her off so much, but it did––at both of them, really. Balidor was lucky Revik didn’t rip out his spine and show it to him.
“Magic pussy strikes again,” Cass muttered, still watching the Adhipan leader’s face.
Turning, Jon gave her a look. “Not now, Cass.”
She rolled her eyes, biting her lip.
Allie seemed to bring out the obsessive, possessive, lovestruck thing in every guy she’d ever slept with––even someone as stoic as Balidor, apparently. Cass had been teasing her about it since high school, calling it her “magic pussy,” but truthfully, it really did annoy her.
It annoyed her even back when everyone thought of Cass as the pretty one, and Allie as “the girlfriend type.”
Balidor didn’t seem to hear he
r snide comment.
“Fucking vultures,” he snapped, pacing.
“What do you expect, ‘Dori?” Jon said, motioning at the television with his mutilated hand. “Did you think they wouldn’t play this?”
“They’re inciting war!”
“They’re inciting war? The feeds?” Jon’s voice grew openly incredulous. “Balidor, we’re lucky they aren’t talking about nuking all of Asia yet. They probably would be, if they had any idea where the Rebels were.”
Balidor didn’t seem to be listening to him. “We have to go in. We have to put a stop to it. Now! We will bring her out… one way or another.”
Cass focused her attention on Jon. He looked exhausted, devastated. She saw tears in his eyes, and realized this was hitting him harder than he was pretending. She touched his arm, but just like before, he barely seemed to notice.
“‘Dori, we can’t,” Jon said. “Not yet.”
“Fuck this!” Balidor burst out. “He’s fucking turning her, Jon! He’s turning her into a goddamned murdering terrorist!”
Cass flinched at the emotion in his voice.
She saw tears in his eyes then and her shock deepened.
A second later, her anger returned.
She glanced around at the other seers in the room, but none seemed willing to speak. She couldn’t tell if they were even listening to Balidor, much less whether they agreed with him. Most were staring at the monitor with blank, shocked looks on their faces, as if they weren’t sure if the broadcast was real.
Only Voi Pai seemed to have taken the information differently. She studied the image of Allie with interest, a calculating stare in her yellow eyes.
The vertical pupils narrowed as Cass watched, making her look even more feline.
“Look at her!” Balidor said, gesturing sweepingly at the monitor. “She is enjoying herself! You can see it… in her eyes. She likely thinks she is doing right by now. She’s getting off on killing them. Just like he does. Just like Syrimne.”
“‘Dori.” Cass grimaced. “Jesus. I really doubt that.”
“Shut up, Cassandra!” he snarled, turning on her. “You and your fucking Wvercian! Do you think I don’t know where your sympathies truly lie? Just go, if that’s where you want to be!”
Cass felt her skin grow cold. Her anger grew cold, too, but she didn’t answer.
She glanced at Jon, who was wiping his eyes with his fingers.
“Balidor’s right,” Jon said. Glancing at Cass, he added, “About Allie, I mean. We have to do something. We can’t just sit here.”
“What would you do?” Voi Pai said.
Cass craned her neck to look at her, surprised she’d bothered to register an opinion. Jon turned as well––as did most of the seers in the silk-tapestried theater. Cass felt her anger flare hotter when she saw the smug look on the female seer lounging on the silk-cushioned couch.
Voi Pai propped her elbow on a nearby wooden table, her voice bored. She looked only at Balidor.
“You let her go, Adhipan,” she said, hammering each word with her accented Prexci. “You knew exactly what you were doing, letting her go to her mate. Did you think it would have no affect on her, being with him?”
Rolling her eyes, seer fashion, she gave him a scornful look.
“And he is Elaerian. She is probably fucking him right now––so far inside his light, she can’t see the difference between her own mind and his. I’m sure she went into this willingly, Balidor. I would bet my home on it.” She sniffed again.
Balidor barely seemed to hear her.
To Cass, he didn’t look like he was in his right mind.
“We’re pulling her,” he muttered. “We’re fucking pulling her––”
“It is too late!” Voi Pai said. “Are you not listening to me? What do you think he will do now, if you take his wife from him again? Do you think he will let you walk away unmarked this time, Adhipan? He knows what you did. He definitely knows by now… and has even more reasons to hate you for it. And you shot her on top of it! He will want blood if you go near her again, if you so much as speak to her––”
“I don’t give a damn!” Balidor said, turning on her. “What is the option? Do you want me to kill her, is that it?”
All of them flinched a little, staring at him.
Then Voi Pai clicked softly, tapping her manicured nails against the tea cup she held. She draped an arm over the carved wooden back to the couch.
“You gave her to him, Balidor,” she said, again enunciating each word. “It is too late to second-guess this decision. You have no one to blame but yourself.”
The Adhipan leader’s eyes brightened.
Voi Pai’s voice grew almost cruel.
“You cannot simply take her back, and say, ‘I am sorry, Syrimne. I made a mistake in returning your wife to you… I would like her back now, please.’” She tapped her nails again, clicking impatiently. “And what do you suppose she will have to say about this? Do you think she will come back to you willingly, brother Balidor?”
Her hard voice grew colder still, almost openly derisive.
“What do you suppose they have been doing together, all of these months? Or did you think she would remain celibate with him?”
Cass watched in disbelief as Balidor wiped his eyes. It occurred to her that he’d looked like hell for weeks now, ever since Allie left. He looked like he’d lost weight, too, she realized, noticing his clothes.
Jesus. Jon was right. They hadn’t just slept together. They’d been involved somehow, him and Allie. Like, really involved. It was written all over him.
Thinking about that, watching Balidor’s face, she scowled.
In the background, the voice of a female news commentator rose from the feed station, which had continued to play while they spoke.
“…It is official, now. The seer calling himself Syrimne d’Gaos has gone on record taking credit for the attack in South America. According to SCARB officials, he released a statement several minutes ago, making demands for the release of all seer prisoners, and calling for the end of seer regulation under the Human Protection Act. It is now believed that the seer terrorist, Alyson Taylor, ‘The Bridge,’ works directly under him in one of his terrorist cells…”
A male commentator broke in when she trailed.
“…This just in, SCARB officials have released the identity of the corporation targeted by the seer terrorists. It was the international humanitarian aid corporation, Black Arrow, which creates genetically-modified super crops to feed people around the globe, particularly in the drought-stricken third world. SCARB officials now speculate the terrorists’ goal was to cut off food supplies to these nations, thus creating desperation and counter-terror in some of the most deprived human populations in the world…”
Cass glanced at Balidor.
“‘Dori,” she said. “You can’t possibly believe that was her motive… or even his. Revik would never do that, not even if—”
“I said to turn that fucking thing off!” he snapped.
He curled his hands into fists as she watched. They didn’t loosen even after one of Voi Pai’s servants did as he asked and turned off the main monitor, right on a picture of Allie’s face.
The room appeared darker without the light from the feeds.
For a long moment, no one seemed to move.
“Can we talk to her?” Jon said, his voice filling the silence. “What if we tried to get a message to her? Would he let us, do you think?”
Balidor turned, looking at him. His jaw remained hard.
“What good would that do, Jon?”
Jon’s eyes grew angry. “Well, we could get her side of it, for one thing. We’d know if she’d been coerced. We could find out what actually happened in there. The feeds were pretty vague about what they were doing in that building. Maybe it’s not what we think. Maybe they got trapped somehow, and she panicked.”
“Panicked?” Balidor gave him an incredulous look. “If she’s doing ops with him, J
on, then she’s been converted.”
“Maybe,” Jon said. “Or maybe not. Maybe she’s just trying to understand his motives. To see his operation from the inside.”
“See it from the inside?” Balidor’s voice grew emotional again. “Gods, Jon! You of all people! Do you think she needed to kill with her telekinesis to understand Dehgoies’ motives?”
“No,” Jon said, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.” Looking around at the others, he clenched his hands. “Just let me see if I can talk to her, okay?”
“You?” Voi Pai said contemptuously. “Why would Syrimne let a worm speak to his wife? A worm from the camp of his enemy?”
At the last part, she looked directly at Balidor.
Jon gave her an equally contemptuous look.
“You don’t know Revik,” he said. “He has funny ideas about family. He might let me talk to her. He thinks…” Jon gave a short laugh, shaking his head as he glanced around at the others. “He thinks I’m some kind of hybrid. Like a partially-evolved human. He credits Allie with it, of course, but he called me an ‘honorary seer’ the last time I talked to him, and referred to me as his brother-in-law. He was definitely weird about me and Allie, but I still think I’m your best chance of reaching her while she’s with him. Me, or maybe Cass.”
“Jon is right,” another voice said, this time from behind them.
Cass turned, a little surprised when she saw Vash standing there, the old seer from the mountains. He’d been so quiet, she wondered how long he’d been in the room.
His long, smooth-skinned face wore a faint smile, which made Cass smile back at him in return. Nothing seemed to faze that old guy. No matter how dire things were, he seemed to find everything to be, at base, A-okay.
She wondered if that meant he was going a little senile.
“Jon is our best hope of determining the truth of her right now,” Vash repeated. “Make a request to Dehgoies. He will not refuse it.”
“And? Why are you smiling, Clan Elder Vashentarenbuul?” Balidor said, his voice angry. “Is there something here that amuses you? If so, please share. For I could use a good laugh.”
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