I stood facing the door, my level stance putting me directly in front of it. Slowly, I drew my left hand back, preparing to send the door flying inward like a projectile, but just before I struck, I felt something odd, not right. I froze solid, straining with all my senses to figure out what it was. Concern darkened Alicia’s face, and I moved my hand toward her, palm away, indicating for her to wait a moment while I concentrated so intensely that Blood sweat popped out along my forehead to join the rapidly drying offerings from the other guards.
There it was. The faint smell of C-4. One might wonder why I am able to recognize that smell, and the explanation is actually simple. A block of C-4 had been responsible for destroying the airliner carrying my parents, along with 183 other people, and before I buried myself in a drug-induced haze of painlessness, I had learned everything I could about it. Everyone who knew me thought that my rabid research was my way of dealing with grief, and none of them, not even Kane, knew how close I came to joining my parents. In some bizarre string of logic that made complete sense to me at the time, I figured I had a better chance of joining them wherever we all go if I took myself out the same way.
The smell is as familiar to me as any other on this planet; I will remember it forever.
Leaning close to the door frame, I inhaled deeply, moving my head this way and that until I understood. The entire doorway was lined with C-4, and it suddenly made sense why the three men inside the office were so focused on it. I immediately probed each mind thoroughly, impressed that they had managed not to think about the booby trap directly, which was why I almost missed it.
Perhaps I was giving them too much credit. They were probably too afraid to think of anything else.
I pulled back from the door, my mind beginning to churn. A few moments later, the pieces fell together, and I understood how to turn the situation to our advantage.
Alicia. The door’s rigged.
Alicia’s eyes went wide for a moment. I didn’t know about that, her mind whispered, but she wasn’t so much concerned as shocked. Christian liked to brag about such things, which meant it was either a new addition or something he’d kept from her. I chose to see it as a new addition, aware of the fact that it might be only one of any number of new things Christian had put in place since our conversation. Aside from making me more cautious, knowing that Christian had taken extra precautions against me also fed my voluminous ego.
I shrugged, an unconcerned smile spreading on my face. No biggie; I’ve got a workaround. I laid it out quickly, and Alicia’s approving smile indicated that she liked my improvisation.
I held out my hand, and she took it immediately, her hand soft and dry; she was completely secure in my ability to protect her. Pleased by that, I moved her far enough away from what I estimated to be the blast zone. It was clear from the layout that the charge was shaped to concentrate most of the damage between the two sides of the door frame, but I added a little distance for the fudge factor anyway. I made a motion for Alicia to cover her ears, and after she complied, I faced the door once more. Balancing lightly on the balls of my feet, I rocked forward and leaped off the floor, hovering with my back against the ceiling, arms pressed flat like Spider-Man.
When I was situated, I uncorked my BloodHunger, sorting delicately through its myriad of sounds until I found the sparking Power Sound that thrummed like a high-tension electrical line. Patiently winding it around my psyche like the string on an unraveled yo-yo, I focused on the mental image of a sledgehammer. Swiftly but thoroughly I imagined each detail, from the bulbous head to the long, wooden shaft, and my psyche throbbed with ramping power as it coalesced and shaped itself to resemble the image, growing larger and larger until parts of it were pushing against the walls of my mind.
An eerie buzzing vibration began in the center of my forehead, growing louder and stronger with each passing second until it was like a drill boring into my skull. I kept focusing my mental energy until it felt like my skull would fly apart, and then I smash cut my focus to the door, unleashing a psychokinetic bolt that tore it off its hinges and sent it flying into the room.
The ensuing explosion was massive, hurting my ears and shaking the walls and ceiling in a mini, man-made earthquake. A rush of heat washed over my exposed skin like a wave of lava, acrid smoke bringing Blood tears to my tightly shut eyes. My ears rang like a fire bell was going off inside my head, and the stench of burning paint, metal and wood tightened my stomach painfully.
Now, Alicia, I whispered gently in her head as bullets erupted into the hallway and peppered the far wall, bits of drywall raining down. Smoke and dust billowed, impairing the view of both office and hall, and I took advantage of the concealment to sidle toward the wall opposite the destroyed doorway.
When I bumped into the top of the far wall, I continued downward, directly into the line of the sporadic fire coming from the office. I gritted my teeth as a couple rounds entered my body like determined wasps, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and I considered the frightening fact that Alicia was the only being on the planet for whom I’d willingly take a bullet. It might have something to do with the fact that a bullet would be nothing more than an inconvenience to Gisele, but then again, it might not.
Pain, thick and rich, stopped all contemplation and spread concentrically out from each point of impact. I welcomed it, letting it feed my rage; I’d need it soon. Dark Blood splattered on the wall behind me, and I slid down the lower half of the wall, smearing my Blood into my very own Pollock.
When my buttocks hit the floor, I rolled until I was face down, my head turned toward the wall. I could feel Blood pooling beneath my body, but already the wounds were healing. It took considerable will to curb the instinctive urge to probe and protect them.
“NOOO!” Alicia screamed, her wail high-pitched and Bloodcurdling. “Mike? M I C H A E L!!!!” Put her in Hollywood, and she’d have her own star on the boulevard in no time.
◆◆◆
Nerves raw and jangling, Christian pondered the wisdom of waiting for what was left of the intruders when the door came hurtling toward him like a misshapen missile, bent and twisted by the Herculean blow that had torn it free from the frame. Instinctively, he hurled himself to the floor, banging his head and knee painfully in an effort to crawl underneath the carpet. The door clipped Wade on the way by, hurling his two hundred fifty pounds aside as if he were a mosquito, and then smashed into the upper portion of the desk, cartwheeling madly and crashing into the wall like a stock car at any good NASCAR event.
The room was already shaking from the impact when the explosion tore through, bringing smoke, chunks of debris and a disrupting ear-ringing that drowned out even the pounding of his heart. Were it not for the fear that almost caused him to soil his pants, Christian would have smiled in glee at the success of his trap. He only hoped that Alicia hadn’t fallen into it, because he had special plans for her.
Johann, his only living bodyguard, got to his knees and began laying down a heavy blanket of automatic fire through the decimated doorway. Christian smiled when he heard Alicia scream and began to pick himself up off the floor, his head and knee throbbing mercilessly.
After finding his feet, he swayed for a moment with the nausea, but through sheer force of will, remained standing. He let the room spin for a bit and settle before bending at the knee to retrieve his Desert Eagle .50 AE. When his hand closed around the massive grip, he lifted the hefty weapon from the floor and felt the first surge of triumph hit him.
Walking toward the doorway, he tapped Johann on the shoulder and trained his pistol on the doorway. Holding the weight of the pistol away from his body made Christian aware of the burning in his lower back, wrenched from diving to the floor as if there had been a warm, inviting woman at his feet. Johann immediately stopped firing, reloaded his weapon with the singular precision that only repetition could invoke, and then returned the muzzle to the doorway.
They glanced at one another quickly, silent facial communication passing betwe
en them, and then Johann cautiously approached the charred, gaping hole, Christian several feet behind him and to the right. Most of the dust had settled, and the smoke was thinning as the small fires caused by the explosion burned themselves out. Parts of the hallway beyond were visible, and the outline of a prone body could be seen against the far wall. Johann made a gesture toward the body, and Christian made a slight sound in the back of his throat, indicating that he saw it as well.
◆◆◆
Alicia backed up slowly and took cover in a recessed doorway, her weapon trained on Christian’s office but her eyes glued to Jason’s purposely crumpled form. Despite the fact that she had already seen him survive one shooting, a deep terror gripped her in its icy hands when she saw him slump to the floor, and the scream that tore itself from her throat had not been an act. In that instant, she had been petrified that he was gone, that she was alone again. Not just alone in this battle, but alone in her life, and it made her insides quiver with panic.
She had been alone her entire life prior to meeting Jason, but she had never known anything different. Now that she knew what it felt like to connect with someone, the thought of being alone again had just become her greatest fear.
She was thankful that Christian’s caution gave her a few precious seconds to talk herself down, because if she did not put up a vicious fight in the coming minutes, he would suspect that something was wrong. The Alicia whom Christian knew and loved in his twisted, psychotic way was so fierce and determined a fighter that he had nicknamed her “Wolverine.” She took several deep, calming breaths and allowed herself a small smile at the rapid approach of her long-awaited vengeance.
◆◆◆
Johann flattened himself as much as he could against the torn wall, his H&K UMP45 in assault position as he glanced back to his employer. Christian nodded, and Johann leaned toward the opening, peeking his head out for a split second into the hallway and pulling it back just as quickly. No shots answered his movement, so he took a more thorough look.
The hall appeared empty save for the man on the floor, and the puddle of Blood beneath the body indicated that he was not a viable threat. However, Johann knew that there were several recessed doorways in the hall, and though he could not see anyone, he knew from the heart-stopping scream that at least one person was hiding within one of them.
He looked back again at Christian, who had taken up a supporting position, and Christian nodded again. Taking a fortifying breath, Johann steeled himself and then hooked into the hallway, triggering his weapon in a covering burst a split second before leaving the relative safety of the office.
Shots rang out, loud and piercing, and Johann rolled smartly, coming to his feet a few inches away from the fallen man, eyes scanning the three other doorways rapidly and systematically, finger heavily poised on the trigger, ready. When his first rapid pass picked up nothing, he began a second, more thorough pass, searching for any indication of life in any of the shadowed crevasses in the walls.
Time slowed as he narrowed the beam of his senses, concentrating most of it on his target but not tunneling his focus so that he would miss anything that might pop up elsewhere, a trick learned in many a nameless jungle and impossible-to-pronounce village.
When he saw no indicators of movement, he released the front grip of his weapon and crouched down, reaching toward the body at his feet without taking his eyes off the rest of the hallway. Going on feel, he slid his hand up the body until he located the smooth, bald head. The skin beneath his fingertips was lukewarm and hard, like an empty glass that had been left in the sun for a few minutes, and Johann slid his hand back toward the throat, feeling for a pulse and then removing his hand when he did not find one. With that same hand, he signaled to Christian, indicating that the man was dead, and then drew to his full height, giving the hallway his full attention.
“Not so tough now, are you motherfucker?” Christian rasped with deranged glee. He was certain the corpse on the floor belonged to the voice on the other end of the phone. A rush of elation filled him to the brim, so much that he almost giggled.
◆◆◆
It took every last ounce of will to remain still when I heard Christian’s voice. Every nerve in my body screamed, and it became almost agony to remain still. The rage flared up powerfully, and I wanted to make them both pay, but I knew it was Alicia’s time to shine.
Get ready, I whispered in Alicia’s mind, sensing the movement of the bodyguard leaving his crouch and returning to full height.
I’m ready, she replied, both concern and relief for me coloring her mental voice.
I’m okay, Alicia, I replied soothingly. But they’re not. Alicia’s mental laughter trickled in my head like a babbling brook winding through the rocks, and I forced myself to flinch, my whole body jerking, and steeled myself for the round of bullets to follow.
I felt the movement of the bodyguard, Johann, and saw his rapid motion in my mind, a comical expression on his face. He was stunned by the movement, more stunned than I expected. He was well aware that nerve impulses continue in a body for several minutes after the heart stops beating, but the situation was taut enough to make him forget himself for a moment.
A moment was all Alicia needed.
As he swung all his attention and his weapon toward me, I signaled Alicia mentally.
◆◆◆
Johann was about to take a step forward when he sensed movement at his feet. He was concentrating so intensely on the hall that it startled him completely, and his body went on autopilot, turning his head and weapon toward the movement even as his rational mind screamed that freshly dead people often twitch and jerk as failing synapses fire at random until the oxygen-starved brain ceases to function.
Warning bells went off in his head, the almost sixth sense developed over many combat missions wailing, and he turned his attention and his weapon back to the hall in time to see Alicia’s face appear from behind the first recessed doorway, followed by an MP5SD in classic SWAT assault position, and he was on the wrong end of it. His gaze was faster coming around than his weapon, and he knew he was done when he heard the muted spits, each followed by the clacking of the bolt.
Ironically, his last thoughts were of how stunningly beautiful Alicia was and why he had never really noticed before, and then the burst took him high on the chest from left to right. He felt one prolonged impact in the instant before he felt nothing further, pirouetting madly, his finger tight on the trigger.
◆◆◆
Immediately after she stopped firing, Alicia whirled back into the doorway, flinching as the UMP45 began to boom, each round tearing chunks out of the wall. By the time Johann started firing, he had already spun too far around to have any chance of hitting her, but she stayed behind cover until his weapon was empty.
She could not help the smile that claimed her face as she waited for Jason’s next signal.
◆◆◆
Christian’s triumphant look faded as he watched Johann’s body dance with the impact of at least ten bullets. As Johann spun around and began firing out of reflex, the look turned to disbelief when Christian realized that he would quickly be in the line of fire.
Diving to the floor again, he painfully smacked his already injured knee and bit his lip to keep from crying out while bullets screamed over his head and pounded into the walls around him. He waited, anger growing like a cancer, until Johann’s weapon was empty, and then he picked himself gingerly up off the floor.
Once again, Christian Lucier was afraid, and his fear made him angry. It’s just Alicia, he thought savagely. Why am I afraid of Alicia? Christian ground his teeth heavily, the pain flitting up his jaw competing with the pain in his knee and back. Get a grip, Chris! There’s nothing to fear; the worst has passed.
The little voice inside him laughed more loudly.
◆◆◆
Keep thinking that, I thought, the feeling of suffocation powerful; I hadn’t allowed myself to take a breath in several minutes. Instinctively, my m
ind initiated all the effects of oxygen deprivation, and it took effort to counteract them. As I’ve said before, revenants don’t need air, but it’s a chore to convince the brain of that.
I was so busy battling my own brain that I almost missed Christian peering out the jagged doorway, a massive hand cannon coming up to draw a bead on Alicia’s covered position. Now, I said, allowing myself to take a slow, shallow breath now that Christian’s attention was focused solely on Alicia. My brain sang in relief, like a full church choir, before I held my breath again, and the choir turned into a roar that flooded my consciousness.
◆◆◆
Christian raised the Desert Eagle toward the recessed doorway where he knew the shooter crouched, knowing somehow that it was Alicia. He reasoned that she had brought more than just the one guy to come after him, but he also figured that the rest of them had died on the way to his office. The men guarding his house were extremely skilled, and there was no conceivable way that they had failed in their duty by more than the slimmest of margins. Christian was angered by their failure, but since they had paid for it with their lives, there was not a whole lot that could be done.
He would just have to take his frustration out on Alicia.
Swift movement accompanied that thought, and Christian was stunned to see an awkward, black object hurtling toward him. He was struck dumb for a moment, simply watching the object pitch and tumble toward him until he recognized it as an MP5SD, the preferred weapon of his regular house staff. A thousand questions flooded his mind, but he managed to shake off his paralysis and deflect the weapon with his own pistol just before it smashed him in the face. The collision was jarring, and both weapons clattered to the floor.
Corrupting Alicia Page 27