He gasped, and I let him jerk away. “What have you done?” he asked.
“You said it wasn’t harmful.”
“I’m not Unbounded.” His head twitched, but whether from a tick or a reaction from the injection, I couldn’t say. Abruptly, he sat down on the ground and moaned, holding his head in his hands.
The mixture, at one-third the dose he’d been planning for Bedřich, if the two spent syringes told a correct tale, shouldn’t kill him or cause lasting damage, but I was already having second thoughts. Even if I wanted him to suffer consequences for the extracurricular testing, I didn’t like hurting him.
I turned toward Bedřich, who was sitting up now, his hands still to his ears. He looked crazy, with his dirty blond hair pointing in every direction and his brown eyes red and bulging. I tried pushing my way into his mind, but a hard barrier stood against me. It was a mottled, silvery black, strong but diseased, and had a signature that felt familiar. Delia’s mark, I realized. She’d taught him this shielding, or maybe he’d learned it trying to protect himself from her.
I needed to see what was inside. Reaching for my talisman, a machete I’d been given in Mexico—or rather a mental version of the weapon that was now waiting for me in the van—I jabbed it into the tarnished barrier.
The guard who was still standing emitted a growl, our only warning before everything exploded into movement. He leapt at Ritter, pushing him backward. Ritter tripped over the fallen guard and landed on the floor, his gun flying from his hand and slamming against the wall. He was up in the next instant, foot lashing out to throw off the guard’s aim as he pulled the trigger. The gun cracked deafening fire, and the bullet embedded in the headboard of the bed. Bedřich released an inhuman scream and launched through the air at me, uttering what sounded like obscenities in a language I didn’t recognize.
Channeling Ritter, I stepped aside, chopping down at the Czech as he came to an impossibly graceful stop, like a cat finding its feet. The combat instinct made me jump away, even as he struck at me with a foot in a nearly successful effort to break my knee. His fists followed, one after another, and even using Ritter’s ability, I was barely able to keep ahead of him, blocking or dodging his blows. His rapid attack and the precise placement of the punches told me his ability was also combat.
Another part of me was aware of Ritter’s fight through my mental link, but only vaguely since I’d learned to mute that connection in the midst of a battle. With two punches, Ritter sent the guard into unconsciousness, but the other guard had recovered and jumped on his back. Ritter pushed backward, slamming him against the wall.
Bedřich landed a blow on my shoulder and another on my ribs that stole my breath. The Emporium agent had seven inches on me and at least forty pounds. No way would I win in a fair fight, and playing dirty meant hurting him, which I didn’t want to do, seeing as we were here to rescue him.
Even as I had the thought, his body crashed into me and we fell together to the bed. Somehow he had a knife in his hands, a jagged one that if plunged in deep enough would rip me apart on its way out. Who had he taken that from?
Maybe it was the desperation, but my machete finally carved a hole in his mental shield, and I arrowed inside him. His head was a mess. Destroyed bits of silvery gray construct littered his brain, obstructing the flow of the thought stream, disseminating it until thoughts and emotions careened around me like a sandstorm. Once again, I recognized Delia’s touch. Why the bits of ruined construct hadn’t disappeared when she’d died, I didn’t know. The pieces she’d left inside me had disappeared, if not all her memories.
I sent a flash of mental light to the Czech’s mind. Searing. Enough to cause unconsciousness, but hopefully not enough to cause more permanent damage. But he was too quick. The tip of his knife dug into my stomach, making it several inches past the thin body armor I wore like a second skin under my white blouse before he collapsed on top of me.
I rolled him off onto the bed. Ritter was already standing over me, murder screaming from his eyes.
“I’m fine.” I pulled the knife out as I sat up, catching my breath as it tore my insides. I was glad that only a small portion of the jagged blade had made it past my protection. Biting down hard on my lip to stave off the pain, I used the knife to slice off a part of the sheet, which I balled and pushed through the hole in my armor to catch the blood. I felt sapped as I always did when I used my ability in that way, but there was no chance for rest now. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ritter nodded and grabbed the unconscious Czech. I stopped only to uncurl the wire from inside my bracelet to secure Dr. Callas to the bed. He was moaning and shaking, clutching his head, and I didn’t want him wandering loose around the facility until the drug wore off. He pulled at my hands, but strength eluded him.
“Lilian,” he moaned. “You are so beautiful.”
“Too bad you’re a toad,” I said under my breath.
Ritter’s mental shield was still at half strength, strong enough to keep most sensing Unbounded out but like an invitation to me. I made sure not to project the burning in my side. Even so, he knew there was no way we’d be able to make it through the air shafts before we were discovered, not with my wound and him dragging the big Czech.
“Oliver?” Ritter said, leaning down toward the microphone disguised as a pin in his tie. “We need that distraction.”
“Coming right up,” Oliver’s voice came through, startling me with how calm he sounded. I also had a hidden microphone in my necklace, and he had to have heard our battle. “On your mark.” Oliver hesitated several seconds before adding, “You guys okay?”
Ritter’s gaze shifted to me. “We’re good.” Then he added, “Dimitri, we’re going out the way we came in, or at least as far as possible. We’ll meet you in the front. Cover us and have the van ready.”
“I need three minutes.” Dimitri’s voice crackled, indicating that he was farther away than Oliver.
“Three minutes,” Ritter confirmed.
I stumbled as we reached the double doors leading into the main wing. Ritter’s lips hardened, but he didn’t speak. Blood trickled down my side.
We hurried through the corridors, past the commons room, and finally the kitchen, backtracking the way we’d come in order to avoid a lab and an office area where small groups of life forces gathered. We had nearly reached Shadrach’s wing when an alarm blared through the building.
I stopped and shook my head. “There’re a dozen people heading to Shadrach’s hallway. All mortals, but in formation.”
“Homeland Security,” Ritter said. His head jerked backward. “The offices.”
“Eight there,” I told him.
The alarm continued, grating on my nerves. Stella was in their system, thanks to the laptop, but obviously she hadn’t found a way to remotely deal with what was probably a manually triggered alarm. I was glad Ritter was leading the way because the maps I’d studied jumbled together in my mind.
We reached the corridor leading to the offices, and I swiped the key card and held the door open for Ritter. His face was slightly flushed with the exertion, but I knew he’d slowed his pace for me. Every step was agony. Whatever I’d punctured dragging the knife from my stomach was worse than I expected. My Unbounded genes were rushing to heal the wound, and I knew the pain would soon ease, but until it did, I was next to useless.
In the office hallway, people looked uncertainly out at us from the doorways. “It’s okay,” I said. “We have it under control. This prisoner tried to escape, but we got him. Please notify Dr. Callas that he’s been recaptured. Excuse me, we need to get this man to the infirmary.”
Jaws dropped and people nodded. But one man said, “The infirmary’s back that way.”
“We’re looking for Dr. Hartley,” I said. “She needs to look at him now.”
We hurried past without one person trying to stop us. Half a minute later, Ritter took an abrupt turn into a new corridor. What’s down here? I asked silently.
Employee entrance.
He handed me a gun I hadn’t seen him retrieve from Bedřich’s room. “You up to it? Or should we dump the Czech?”
“I’m good. Only one guard.”
A warning beep sounded in my earbud, signaling that someone had found Ritter’s laptop. In two minutes the cameras would show our actual location.
The guard was standing in front of the door with his weapon drawn. “Help!” I cried. “I’m shot!” I’d thought the stain of red on my white blouse would convince him, but he didn’t waver.
“Stop right there or I’ll shoot!” he demanded.
I pushed light into his mind, and the effort of the mental flash momentarily blinded me. But I could see through Ritter’s eyes, and I pushed forward past the fallen man. No use taking his memory when so many had already seen us. In seconds, I recovered my sight, much faster than in the past.
The outer door was locked. I stifled a moan of regret, knowing we should have fought the guard instead of rendering him unconscious, but Ritter bent to retrieve the guard’s keys, and I used them to enter the narrow guard booth to find the door’s release button.
We exited into a parking garage. In Ritter’s mind, I saw his intention to find the exit and escape around to the front. “Wait,” I said, holding up the guard’s keys with the remote to his car. Ritter chuckled and unceremoniously dropped Bedřich onto the cement. Whatever bruises he might sustain would be long healed before he awoke.
Ritter raced through the garage while I waited, gun on the door behind me, mind alert for life forces. At the moment, they were concentrated near the closet where I’d stashed the first doctor, so someone must have found her prematurely, and that is what likely triggered the alarm. They were filtering outward from the closet, checking each room. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered the missing prisoners and the drugged Dr. Callas.
A car engine revved somewhere, and then Ritter was screeching to a stop in front of me, driving a small two-door sedan that had seen better days. He jumped out and scooped up Bedřich while I pulled the seat forward to give him room to dump the man in the narrow back seat. Ritter sprinted around to the driver’s side again before I could even slam my door.
There was no guard at the opening to the parking garage, and Ritter barely slowed as he exited, rounding the curb with a squeal of tires on concrete. He drove as if he’d been here before, but I knew he’d only studied the layout.
Our wheels squealed again as he curved around the building, where a scene straight from a movie set met our eyes. A tank decorated with the flag of the United States Army sat directly in front of the gates, a helmeted man peeking out of the top. An Army transport vehicle was parked nearby, and armed men hunkered behind both vehicles. A line of six Homeland Security guards stood uncertainly in front of the gated entry, staring with confusion at the challengers. I could imagine them wondering why they were being attacked by their own government.
Oliver had outdone himself.
All at once, the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire burst through the air, sending up curls of smoke. The facility guards dove for cover.
Ritter laughed and stomped on the gas, heading directly for the fence and the tank behind it.
“I hope it’s you guys in that car,” Oliver said in our earbuds. “The van’s behind the transport, and Dimitri and the others are already here, but you’d better hurry. Helicopters are coming—and Stella’s sure they aren’t from Homeland Security.”
The Emporium, I thought.
“Go now,” Ritter barked at Oliver. “We’ll continue in this car and meet you at the fallback location.”
He didn’t let off the gas as we crashed through the gates.
MY HEART DIDN’T STOP racing until we were on our private plane heading back to San Diego. My older mortal brother, Chris, was in the cockpit, and the Emporium agents were safe under Dimitri’s watchful eyes. Oliver was still basking in the triumph of his successful illusion—Ritter and I’d both made the mistake of complimenting him on it—and his gloating was likely driving Shadrach and the others to consider ejecting him from the plane.
Ritter and I were in the rear of the plane behind the curtain that blocked the metal bunks we often used to transport unconscious Emporium agents to our prison facility in Mexico. For now, an unconscious Bedřich was the only occupant. Opposite the bunks, shoved up against the right side, were storage compartments that contained everything from emergency supplies to disguises.
Ritter unbuttoned my blouse and eased it off my arms. It took considerably more effort, and pain on my part, for him to finesse the tight, thin layer of body armor over my head. The tiny side zippers did little to help.
My breath still caught with pain whenever I breathed. Glancing down at the wound, I saw it was worse than I’d thought, or it wouldn’t still be leaking blood. Ritter’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. The body armor was fitted and fully supportive, which meant I wasn’t wearing a bra, but Ritter’s eyes barely flicked over my bare skin as he mopped up my stomach and began injecting the area around my wound with anesthetic-laced curequick.
“It’s fine,” I told him, leaning back against the cargo locker behind me. The cool of the metal felt good in contrast to the heat of my wound. “No stitches.” I hated needles, and while I needed the curequick, I drew the line at stitches that might help me heal but would bother me more than they were worth.
That made him angry. “You think I don’t know how you feel? That you clench your teeth every time you take a breath, or that you move like something’s broken? My instincts are screaming you’re a liability, when normally they force me to admit you’re the right person for the job. Not to mention this damn connection we have. So stop pretending.”
I’d thought I was the only one who was annoyed at how the mental connection we shared sometimes seemed like too much information, but I understood now that it made him feel vulnerable. He took responsibility for everything that happened to everyone under his watch, but with me that went much deeper. He’d once lost his family and everyone he’d loved. He’d lived only for revenge.
Until me. Until us.
I reached out to him, pulling him close, glad the anesthetic was already taking affect. “I can’t promise not to get hurt, but I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to come back to you. Always.”
“I know.” His voice roughened on the words as his lips met mine, angling my head back as our kiss deepened. His mind shield vanished and his desire and frustration hit me, along with the thoughts: I can promise not to prevent you from going into danger, but I can’t promise to like it.
Of course he wouldn’t prevent me from battle, because taking that away from me would change everything between us. I kissed him harder. You like this well enough.
He laughed and the tension drained away. “I love you,” he murmured, nibbling my neck.
“I love you too. But put a bandage on me and help me find a shirt before Oliver decides to come back here to brag some more about how he single-handedly extracted us from the jaws of death.”
“No way,” Ritter said. “I’m not finished yet.” And he kissed me again.
For the moment, it was easy to forget that we’d almost gotten caught and that our cargo was possibly the most important we’d ever transported.
I only hoped that our Emporium captives really did have information we needed.
“NOT EXACTLY THE QUIET IN-and-out you planned,” Ava said dryly as Ritter and I walked into the conference room in our San Diego Fortress four hours later.
I shrugged. “I think you’ll agree that the risk was worth it in light of what we returned with.”
“Yes.” Her steel gray eyes flickered over me with more than a cursory glance. Ava was not only the leader of our cell but also my fourth great-grandmother. Consequently, she was more concerned with my welfare than she might have been otherwise. But there was no outer sign of my wound, and by the end of our meeting, even the deeper internal damage would be only another memo
ry.
Ava lifted a hand, inviting us to sit. I took the chair on the left side of the table, kitty-corner to where she stood, and Ritter settled next to me. Today Ava had her shoulder-length blond hair up, and she wore one of her customary suits. She looked younger than the thirty-six years she’d aged over the past three centuries. “I understand Dimitri sedated the third agent when he started coming to?”
“That’s right.” Ritter’s gaze strayed briefly to me. “We couldn’t risk him going nuts on us again.”
Ava held my gaze. “You’re sure it was Delia’s work?”
I nodded. “I’d like to take another look at him. Her constructs were destroyed, but still lingering. I’ve never seen the like.”
This brought a laugh, softening her gray eyes. “There seems to be a lot going on that we haven’t seen lately. At any rate, we’re going to take some flak for the rescue. In fact, the president felt the need to leave his special session of Congress in order to follow up on the disturbing reports he received from the facility.”
“So, he didn’t take it well,” Ritter said, “our going behind his back.”
“President Mann was very angry.” One side of Ava’s lips quirked up in a half smile. But there was something else lingering behind the levity. Something deep and dark, but though she shared my sensing ability, she didn’t reach out to share it with me, so whatever it was, she wanted to tell us in her own way. “I think I made him understand that we had no choice, especially because he doesn’t seem to be making much progress in Congress to protect either Unbounded or mortals.”
“Oh, they’ll approve DNA testing for members of Congress and term limits for Unbounded,” Ritter said. “Because if they don’t, in a hundred years, only Unbounded will be in Congress making decisions for all the world.”
Ava finally sank into her seat. “I hope you’re right—heaven help me for even agreeing that such testing is needed. I thought it would go more smoothly, but the voting has stagnated at every turn, even though not one of the five known Unbounded members of Congress has come forward to object publicly to the testing. At this point, the president is doubtful any of his new laws will pass in their current form.”
The Takeover Page 4