Dark Nebula (The Chronicles of Kerrigan)

by W. J. May

  Rae swore she heard Randy’s vicious laughter. With her iron-grip on the wheel, she forced down the panic that threatened to engulf her. Her breathing quickened and her chest grew tight. Using a night-vision tatù, she spotted a dark road a half mile farther ahead. No signs or lights to give Randy any indication it was there. Biting her lip, she tried to think quickly. She winced as she ground the gearshift into a low gear without decelerating.

  The sports car lurched, and the engine screamed in protest, but held its speed. Taking the sharp right, she checked the rearview mirror and watched Randy race by. His brake lights flashed on. Rae accelerated to the next turn and made a quick left down a narrow lane. She flipped her lights off. As she turned, she caught sight of Randy’s headlights turning onto the road she had just left.

  She took another quick left and the motorway appeared again. Turning onto it, she nearly collided with a milk delivery truck parked on the street. She swerved and swung the wheel in time to avoid it. Devon moaned and she shot a quick look his way. His body was slumped back against the seat now.

  Rae switched the headlights back on. At each intersection, she expected Randy to sideswipe her. Her heart sped up faster than the speedometer. Please don’t find us—please.

  A groan interrupted the silence in the car when Rae veered the car to avoid a large pothole. The muddy shoulder flecked dirt against the side of the car. She steered the car back to the center of her lane. Biting her tongue, she fought back the tears threatening to blur her vision, the tightness in her throat unbearable. This is turning into the worst night of my life. Is it ever going to end?

  She checked Devon from the corner of her eye. His head bounced around from her crappy driving. Trying to accelerate faster and still maintain control of the sports car, Rae clenched her jaw and her knuckles shone white against the black of the steering wheel. Alecia’s skeleton tatù! I should’ve thought of it earlier. Picking through her tatù hums, she found it and used her peripheral vision on Devon. She scanned his body. He was hurt but it didn’t look like he was knocking on death’s door. Apparently, blood and bruises look a lot worse than they are–I hope. A bum shoulder, broken ribs, loads of bruises and a bad bump with some swelling on his head. A concussion?

  Blinking against the darkness, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t be too far from Guilder, but she didn’t feel any confidence in her ability to get there in time. She hadn’t actively thought of herself as invincible, but at that moment, she didn’t feel strong or capable in any sense of the words. Tatù or no tatù, she felt scared and lost. Terrified. Finally, the next intersection put her on the winding country road that ran by the school.

  How could everything have turned so utterly disastrous? Kraigan had planned everything, and he seemed to be only getting started. Why hadn’t he chased her? She shook her head. Everything was so obvious now. He had spent all year avoiding her touch, even in the most casual of circumstances. But when she had finally gotten her hands on him, and pulled the information she had needed out of his mind, he hadn’t blocked her, and he hadn’t come after her. Why?

  A pain-filled moan distracted her train of thought. She needed to get Devon to a hospital or to the Privy Council. But how? Maybe if she could get into the Oratory and hide him in one of those secret rooms, he would be safe. Then she would use her telepathy tatù to contact Carter and tell him Devon’s location. If it works. Apparently, he didn’t get the Fiddler’s Roof head-text.

  Then she needed to seek out Kraigan. That’s what he must want, a confrontation.

  Rae snorted. Kraigan needed something from her. The stupid problem was she had no idea what. Kraigan and his stupid little hidden tatù can go straight to hell.

  Headlights shone in her side mirrors. Randy again!

  “Crap!” She veered into the vacant left lane and slammed on the brake. The car skidded as she stalled it, forgetting to shove her left foot on the clutch. Randy flew past as she started the car again. Shifting the car into reverse, she threw her arm over the back of Devon’s seat and backed up a few feet. She had skidded past Guilder’s entrance. She floored it in reverse, using the velocity of her backwards turn into the drive to spin the car around the right direction, hoping and praying that she didn’t hit anything, or heaven forbid, anyone. She flipped the lights off again and drove using night vision.

  She drove as fast as her courage permitted, past the parking lot and onto the sidewalk leading to the Oratory. She cringed when she heard metal scrape from underneath the car. Julian was going to hate her when he got his car back. Devon shifted in his seat and low grunts escaped his lips as he was bounced about. Hopefully he would be awake enough to get into the Oratory.

  Stopping the car half on the cement, half on the grass, Rae jumped out and rushed around to the passenger’s side.

  The rain had turned into a torrential downpour as she swung Devon’s door open and unbuckled his seat belt. She was soaked in seconds, but it didn’t matter. Concentrating, she gripped her wet arms around Devon and locked her hands behind his back. She pulled and grunted.

  “Come on, Dev,” she whined. “Get moving.” She grimaced when her wet hands slipped apart. She tried to catch her fingers but missed. She ended up grabbing the shirt under his dislocated shoulder.

  “Whore’s hounds!” Devon cried. He pushed her away and, wobbling like a grandfather clock’s pendulum, barely managed to stand on his own.

  “Walk,” she urged. “Inside the Oratory.”

  One swollen eye squinted open and it took a moment for him to focus on her. “You know,” his voice cracked. “You know ‘bout…the passageway?”

  “Yeah, I found it by mistake a while back. Just never told anyone.” She rested a hand on his lower back, nudging him forward. “Move.”

  Devon tottered, unable to walk a straight line, but at a fairly quick pace.

  Rae shot a look behind them and let out the breath she had held. No sign of Randy or Kraigan—yet. There might be time to get Devon into a safe place. Rae grabbed the door and cursed when she couldn’t open it. “Damn! It’s locked and no keys or a tatù to open the door.”

  Devon leaned his good shoulder against the wall, breathing like he had just run a marathon. “C-Code’s one-one-one-three.”

  Rae searched for something where she would punch the numbers into. The ancient wooden doors and walls showed nothing. “Where’s the—”

  “Pillar behind you. Lift the mailbox—under the l-l-lid,” he whispered, not opening his eyes or moving.

  Rae lifted the lid. Near the top left of the lid a flashing, neon blue digital light sat above a numeric pad. She punched in eleven thirteen. The Oratory’s antique brass dead bolt unlocked and slid open. A weird thought struck her. “Weird. Those are my actual birthday digits” She glanced at Devon before opening the door.

  Devon tried grinning and ended up groaning. “Yeah.”

  Rae wrapped her arms around his waist and helped him inside. “Let’s get to the secret door.”

  “You know where it is?” he mumbled.

  He must’ve forgotten our conversation a few moments ago. That bump on his head might be more serious than she had originally thought. “Yeah, since before Christmas.” She kept close to the Grand Room’s wall and felt the wood with her hands. Just when she was about to panic, she found what she needed, the little odd piece of coppice sticking out slightly.

  She pushed it in and the secret door swung open. Noticing him struggle to speak, she put a finger on his lips. “Don’t talk.” She gently pushed him onto the bed and flicked the room’s antique light on using Molly’s tatù. “Rest and I’ll send help as soon as I can.” She kissed his forehead. “You’ll be safe here.”

  She started for the secret door and stumbled when the weirdest sensation swept over her. She cried out and nearly stumbled. It felt like someone had just stolen her soul. Her breath caught and she straightened quickly. Molly’s tatù was gone. No hum of it ran through her body, not even a hint.

  “Ever
ything alright?” Devon croaked. “Where are we?” He struggled to rise up on his elbows. His dislocated shoulder dropped him back on the bed and left him panting.

  She ran back to him and grabbed his hands. “I’m fine.” She wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I love you.” She didn’t look back when she left the room and closed the door. Be safe. Please be okay.

  Using Devon’s tatù, it took less than a split second for her eyes to adjust to the very dim lighting in the Grand Room. She ran towards the hall that led to Carter’s study. She went over a message to send telepathically to Carter to let him know where she had hidden Devon.

  Halfway across the marble floor, a voice shattered the silence.

  “You’re so screwed, Kerrigan.” The voice laughed. “I’ve got your tatù and you’ve got…well, you’ve got nothing.”

  Rae skidded to a halt and froze. Her eyes opened wide, searching the darkness for an enemy.

  Chapter 25

  Destruction

  Kraigan’s high-pitched cackle jolted Rae out of her stupor and got her moving again. Using Devon’s stronger night vision, she darted for Carter’s office. The sudden full-strength brilliance of the Grand Room’s lights momentarily blinded her. Everything went stark white. She couldn’t find Kraigan. She couldn’t see anything.

  Still using Devon’s tatù, she zipped across the room. A muscular arm clothes-lined her across the throat and sent her flying backwards. She landed on her back, fighting for air. The hum of Devon’s tatù abruptly ceased.

  Kraigan hovered over her, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

  “You’re an ass,” she hissed, leaning on her elbows, pushing herself up as fast as she could.

  “Somebody needs to teach you some manners.” Faster than a fox, Kraigan’s foot kicked out and slammed her back onto the floor.

  Rae lay momentarily against the cool marble, stunned. What happened to Dev’s tatù? She couldn’t pick out its hum. She looked around the room for some sort of weapon. Kraigan wanted to fight. I’ll wipe the floor with you.

  About ten feet away stood the tall box of sabers Carter used in class. In one motion, Rae lurched up and ran towards them. She grabbed two and twisted around to face Kraigan.

  One eyebrow arched, he let out a low laugh. “So, you wanna fight? I’ve been waiting my whole life to battle you.”

  Rae flipped her shock switch off, debated for a second, and then threw a saber towards the middle of the room. She grinned but quickly frowned when Kraigan caught it before it even hit the floor. Man, he’s got moves.

  He crouched and began switching the saber from hand to hand.

  Cocky from her training, Rae had no fear. She settled for the more casual approach. Planning on a surprise attack, the way she had fooled Julian all those months back. She waited for Kraigan to stand up and complain.

  He never did. He lunged at her, his rock hard chest connecting with her forearm and sending her saber soaring.

  Biting her lip to keep from crying out from the searing pain, Rae levitated and soared after her saber. Just as she grabbed the saber, Kraigan caught her ankle and swung her about.

  Doing 360s, Kraigan spun her around and around. She lost count as she tried to kick loose from his vice-like grip. His momentum increased and suddenly Rae found herself airborne, but with no levitation tatù to control it. Her body crashed into the wall and her saber fell in pieces beside her.

  Kraigan drifted over to where she lay and hovered above her. “Haven’t figured my tatù out yet, Kerrigan?”

  Rae struggled to get back up. Her mind whirled from dizziness, disorientation and confusion. She tried to focus. Camouflage. Or some hiding mechanism. I’ve lost Devon’s fennec fox skills. And now I’ve lost the ability to levitate. She needed something strong to beat Kraigan. Psycho’s somehow absorbing my powers.

  Rae’s eyes grew huge at the realization of her last thought. He’s stealing my tatùs! One at a time. The camouflage is a cover. His ability is like Dads, like mine–he can copy, but where I mimic, he steals.

  Using the levitation tatù, Kraigan lifted her high above his head without touching her. Stuck in midair, just out of reach, Rae felt like she was dangling with a rope around her waist. She tried kicking Kraigan’s face but only managed to spin herself in circles. His mocking laugh echoed throughout the empty room.

  “Put me down!”

  “Sure.” He dropped her to the ground like a rag doll, only to immediately haul her back up and swing her around. “Great tatù. I wonder if the original owner even knows half of its potential.”

  “Doubt it. He’s dead. I killed him.” Lanford hadn’t exactly died at her own hands, but Kraigan didn’t need to know that.

  “Are you sure he’s dead?” He scoffed. “Have you wondered how this evening finally came about?

  Kraigan was worse than a nightmare, and he was only trying to scare her, she hoped. Lanford’s dead—Carter said so, right? Rae had to concentrate on breathing and thinking at the same time. What started tonight? She had no idea.

  He bounced her up and down in the air, impatiently tapping his sneaker against the marble floor. “The journal, Rae. That’s what this is all about. I used Randy’s tatù and listened to you tell Devon. I went to your room and got it before you sad lovebirds left his room. Everyone wants a piece of you it seems.” He snorted. “When I’m finished with you, there’ll be pieces for everyone.”

  He brought her slowly towards the hundred-foot ceiling and then let her plummet towards the floor, stopping her only a foot before she crashed onto the marble.

  Rae cringed, and thrashing wildly, fought to break free from his hold. Her body reacted before her mind could process the thought. She threw her hand toward him, whipping his raised arms with a strong gust of wind.

  Kraigan jolted and stepped back, losing the concentration keeping her airborne. She landed on the marble floor near the wall and took on Julian’s tatù. It’d give her the advantage of knowing Kraigan’s moves slightly before he made them. She caught sight of her shattered saber nearby. She grabbed the handle and realized the shortened end might act as a crude sword. Not a very good one, but a weapon nonetheless.

  Kraigan slid towards her like a cat stalking its prey. Lips in a thin line and brows furrowed together, the hatred shone clear in his eyes. With a swing of one wrist, he brought the rest of the sabers out of the box and lofted them towards Rae like javelins. Rae read the direction of each throw and avoided making contact with everyone. They came harder and faster, a few actually sticking into the wall behind her. When he ran out, he flung one back to his hand and came at Rae, saber held high. He growled as he raced towards her.

  Rae crouched and read the direction of his thoughts, jumping out of the way. As she passed, she jabbed and pierced his hand. He dropped his saber and roared in pain. Or anger. Rae couldn’t tell and had no time to wonder. She tried to send a short message to Carter. I’m in the Oratory. Kraigan’s attacking me. I need help. Hurry.

  She switched back to Julian’s tatù just as Kraigan grabbed her ponytail and roughly jerked her head back.

  “Ow!” Tears sprang to her eyes as hairs ripped from their follicles. Her head wrenched forward when he let go. Rae turned to stare at him. Kraigan squinted as he absorbed Julian’s power and a wicked grin slowly spread across his face when he realized his new ability.

  “Art-boy’s skills have progressed. Last time I stole it, all he could basically do was paint bits of the future. Now he’s able to predict it. Nice.” He rubbed his hands together. “This should be fun.”

  When had he stolen Julian’s tatù? Julian still had his ability. Dodging a saber stuck in the wall, Rae tried to push the thoughts aside. She needed to concentrate on the now.

  She remembered Devon and Julian’s conversation, the night they sparred, about sending mixed messages. She made herself think about running for the door and noticed Kraigan step to the right as he walked towards her. Within reach, she copied a karate kick she saw another student do and conne
cted with his mid-section. It would have been an awesome hit, had he been a bit closer. She only managed to connect with the tip of her shoe.

  Kraigan dropped his hands to his knees and sucked in air. In the same moment, he snatched her arm and pinned it behind her. His hot, uneven breath wafted against her neck. With one hand, he pulled her arm and held it tight.

  Excruciating pain and a strange hum shot through her shoulder into the pit of her stomach, making her gag.

  Kraigan squeezed tighter, forcing her to drop the broken saber and then wrenched her free arm against her back. Her arms were bent at awkward angles and throbbed, begging to be released.. Even though she pressed her lips tight together, a groan escaped. She screamed when one of her shoulder blades pulled out from its socket. Kraigan released her and laughed when she stumbled forward, gasping.

  Closing her eyes, she focused on the hum of her healing tatù. Tucking her chin, she pulled her shoulders forward and set the dislocation back into its correct place. The wave of nausea passed.

  “You do realize I’m going to kill you.” Kraigan slapped her cheek hard, making it feel like her head would swing off her neck.

  Rae shuddered. Not because of his words, but because her healing tatù disappeared when he connected with her cheek. It throbbed and burned.

  He stepped back and stretched his arms, suddenly looking refreshed. “Another fantastic tatù. Where did you manage to find all this great talent, dear sister? Everyone at Guilder I’ve come across is lame.” He rubbed his chin. “Except for Desiree. Now that one I had fun with.”

  “You’re no family of mine.” Rae searched through her tatùs, trying to buy some time. “We may have the same sperm donor, but that’s as far as it goes.” She plucked a fight or flight tatù, something with speed and glanced cautiously towards the front door. She hoped Carter would come barging in with the cavalry behind him. “You’ve got a stealing tatù.”

  Kraigan mimicked her American accent. “‘You’ve got a stealin’ tatù.’” He laughed and scratched his head. “Yeah, something like that. Seems to me my tatù works different when matched to yours. Maybe a mixing of the bloodlines? Shame we can’t mix our talents together. Imagine our offspring’s ability.” He cocked his head and pointed to the carvings on the walls. “Wouldn’t King Henry have loved to know this? He’d have mixed everyone and worked closer with the Xavier Knights instead of his damn Privy Council.”