by Minton, Toby
Gideon's eyes, alien and human alike, narrowed with confusion, but Nikki didn't care. She wasn't talking to him anymore. When he started to speak, she held up her hand and snapped, "Don't."
I knew, Nikki.
Yeah, got that part, she answered in her head. Skip to the part where you explain.
When I asked Gideon to heal Kate, I knew what that would mean, Michael responded, his tone almost apologetic. I knew I wouldn't be able to take down the Hunter after that. Nikki, I knew what I was walking into.
She couldn't stare down her brother, so Gideon got the honors. To his credit, he didn't seem shaken. What she'd taken for confusion in his mismatched eyes was starting to look a lot like suspicion.
"I knew one of you would die—" he started.
She changed the raised hand to a single pointed finger, silencing him again.
I don't regret that decision, Nikki, Michael said, his voice taking the short step from apologetic to defensive. And if I had to do it again, I'd make the same call. I wouldn't change what I did.
"That makes one of us," she growled.
Gideon's mouth tightened and he bowed his head. She could feel Michael settling into a stubborn silence, so she didn't stop Gideon when he spoke this time.
"Since that day I've questioned my decision to conceal what little I knew of your destiny." He looked away into the darkness. "I've questioned many decisions, but concealing your future most of all."
"And exactly what do you know about my future?"
He didn't answer for a minute. He took the time to stare off into one of the dark corners some more, then to sit, easing himself down like he was an old timer, not at all like he'd stopped aging in his late thirties, some fifty-odd years ago.
"Two years ago I went to the other side," he gestured toward the chains, "searching for a way to stop Savior. I found you." He looked up at her again. "I found you and Michael, and two intertwined destinies I could not unravel."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Michael shushed her in her head. He actually shushed her.
Are you kidding me right now? she thought back, but he didn't respond. He was too caught up in Gideon's words.
"I saw that one of you would make Savior stronger than ever," Gideon went on, "and the other would destroy him. But it wasn't until after your capture that I discovered which destiny belonged to whom."
She felt a surge of what felt disturbingly like happiness, or relief maybe. Usually she could tell one from the other, but since neither made sense right now, she doubted them both. This emotion sharing was quite possibly the second-worst thing that had ever happened to her.
What's wrong with you? she thought at Michael. Why are you so pleased all of a sudden?
Because. He actually stopped for what would have been a smile if he'd had a body. He's saying I died for a reason, for some greater purpose. If he'd been in front of her, she wouldn't have been surprised to see tears of joy, considering how pleased with the world he sounded.
When I went to face the Hunter, I knew I couldn't win, but I didn't know why Gideon wanted that. When I realized he wanted me to fall, I knew it had to be because of something he'd seen of the future, but until now I—
"When you realized what?"
She felt a spike of concern, not her own, then Michael started to backpedal. He was the one at a loss for words now, stumbling over himself in a futile attempt to catch the cat and stuff it back in the bag, only this cat was a cheetah, and it was already halfway across the plain on its way toward Gideon's face.
Her punch snapped Gideon's head to the side. He reeled back, then slumped forward off the cot and down to one knee on the concrete before he caught himself.
She wanted to keep swinging, but she held herself back. He couldn't know what she and Michael were saying, so he didn't know why she'd hit him. She wanted him to know why when the next one landed. She wanted him to look her in the eye and say it.
"You sent him out there to die," she said as evenly as her pounding heart allowed. "Didn't you?"
"Yes," he breathed, his head slumped to stare at the drop of blood that had fallen from his lip. "I sent him to his death."
He looked up into her eyes. "No words can express my sorrow for what I have taken from you, from Michael, and from the world."
She wanted to hit him again. She knew she wanted it, even if her screwed up emotions couldn't make up their minds. But she couldn't see him to take aim thanks to the crappy light, and the tears that wouldn't stop filling her eyes every time she wiped them away. She clenched her fists so hard she thought her skin would split, but the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks were replaced as soon as they fell.
What did he mean by that? Michael said softly.
That he's sorry, she thought back, angrily scrubbing her sleeve across her eyes. Why won't they stop coming?
Nikki, I'm sorry, but—ask him what he meant by, "from the world."
Give me a damn minute here.
Please, he said softly but with no less urgency.
Fine. "What do you mean, 'the world?'"
Gideon wiped at the blood on his lips, but he didn't look away from her.
"I was wrong," he said simply. Then he closed his eyes. "I was convinced you were the one who would destroy Savior, so I made a choice, and now the world will pay for it."
He must have interpreted the look on her face as confusion because he kept explaining. She didn't know what her face looked like because she no longer cared. All she could feel was Michael's blissful sense of peace dissolving and her rage taking over.
"I thought you were destined to destroy Savior," he went on, oblivious to his imminent danger. "But I was wrong. You had already made Savior more powerful than ever. You've fulfilled your destiny, which means I let your brother die for—"
Nikki slammed her fist into the side of his head with a shout, hurting herself more than him. She instinctively struck at the alien eye, at the armored skin around it. And she did so with her already swollen hand.
It didn't matter. All that mattered was shutting him up, even though it was too late. Michael knew what Gideon was going to say. They both knew. He'd died for nothing.
Clenching her throbbing fist, Nikki struck again at the monster side. She couldn't hurt him as much there, but it didn't matter.
Pride was a big part of Nikki's rage alter ego. If someone told her she couldn't do something when she was in a lather, that's all she would try to do until she succeeded or died trying.
She hammered her fists onto Gideon's armored back over and over, hurling her pain and rage onto him with every blow and every shout that went with it.
He curled in under her onslaught, but he didn't fight back, he just gripped the cot under him and rode out her storm with no more reaction than a few low grunts and growls.
Nikki, stop, Michael tried to step in after a while.
She wasn't having it.
Nikki, he's losing control.
I've lost control! she shouted back in her head.
No, you have to listen to me. The alien side—it's taking over, he said. Nikki, stop! You're in danger.
She didn't care. After what she'd heard tonight, she was actually craving some physical pain. Anything to distract her from all the twisted up feelings inside. So what if—
You're not the only one in danger. Michael knew her too well. His quiet, steady tone pushed through where a shout couldn't. He knew exactly how to talk to her.
If he loses control and gets out of this room, what happens to everybody else? And he knew exactly what to say. What happens to Kate?
That got through.
Her stomach knotted up at the thought of that monster hurting Kate. Even though she knew most of that feeling had to be coming from Michael, she was no less motivated to charge to the rescue.
Stumbling back, she looked down and really saw Gideon for the first time since the rage had taken over. He was on his knees beside the cot, but not protecting himself from her blows like she'
d thought. Every muscle she could see was clenched to the shaking point to hold the creature back.
Nikki—
I know. She went for the chains. She fumbled with the thick manacles, rattling the chains against the wall.
"No," Gideon rasped. "No time. Out. GOOOO!" He roared, his voice becoming a deafening rattle that sounded anything but human. The metal rail of the cot crumpled under his black hand, and he stilled. His head slowly turned in her direction, the single red eye blazing pure hate.
Nikki tore her gaze away, dropped the chains, and lunged toward the door on suddenly bloodless legs. The twisted metal of the cot squealed against the concrete as the creature pushed after her.
She was only two paces from safety, but it was one pace too far. The monster clipped her legs on her second stride, and she careened into the metal doorframe, losing all her momentum. She grabbed the frame and tried to pull herself into the hall and outside the arc of the door she hoped she'd be strong enough to force closed on the thing behind her.
For a heartbeat, she thought she'd make it. Then his—its hand slammed into the middle of her back and wrapped her shirt up in its fist, pulling the fitted tee painfully tight across her chest.
Her fingers scrabbled for the edge of the door and latched on as the creature yanked her back with an earsplitting roar, pulling Nikki off her feet. She held on with all her might, bringing the heavy door back with her.
The creature jerked again, harder, and she lost her grip. The room spun and she crashed back-first into the mangled cot.
Then the door slammed shut, sealing them both inside.
Wounds
Chapter 12
Ace
Ace stared at the screen long after the call ended.
Something was wrong with Max but Ace couldn't put her finger on what it was. He looked good, if in need of a haircut, which was nothing new. He sounded fine too, as close to cogent as he ever came. His body language had been distracted, but again, that was nothing new for him, even after the treatments.
He had, however, called her before a show, and that alone was enough to trigger her alarms. He'd called to say nothing at all, just to see her face and hear her voice, something she continually encouraged but had long since given up expecting. So the big sister in her was on full alert.
Max wasn't a wide-eyed little boy anymore. Thanks to Savior's treatments, he wasn't autistic anymore either. He was a fully functioning adult more than capable of supporting himself. In fact, Max supported a full staff of agents, publicists, crew, and assistants, and on top of all that still managed to sneak credits into Ace's account in a way she had yet to block. Even though he might appear naive and detached at a glance, a brooding stereotype of the genius artist, he could take care of himself in most ways, and for the rest he had Becks. That didn't stop Ace from worrying, though, when the opportunity presented itself. Some habits couldn't be broken.
Max had been the center of Ace's world since he was born. He'd been a surprise baby fifteen years after her parents had decided to stop at just the one child, and only three years before they were both killed in a San Fran missile strike.
Ace had gone from big sister to primary care provider for a little boy who needed more than full-time care, which came at a cost. Fresh out of high school, she'd been unhirable in a crumbling economy. She'd set aside her Olympic dreams, turning down competing trainers and a free university education in her parents' native Holland, and enlisted in the one growth industry in the States that promised one hundred percent support and coverage for Max.
She'd ended up playing volleyball on both the national and international stages after all, and winning multiple championships, but she did it for the United States Marine Corps, not her parents' homeland. Not that she could complain. She'd been good at her job—a top-marks soldier, commended for bravery and valor in multiple engagements. Moreover, her career had suited her and satisfied her in a way she hadn't expected. And best of all, Max was more than taken care of.
Then came the shutdown.
Like most people at the time, Ace had wrestled with mixed feelings about the takeover. She'd wanted the fighting to stop as much as anyone, and Chinese protection guaranteed an end to what seemed like an endless tide of crippling battles. However, the takeover meant a full shutdown of what was left of the American military machine, which meant an end to Ace's career, and more importantly, an end to Max's benefits.
When the shutdown went into effect, she'd followed Elias into the private sector, into Savior's employ. Not only did Savior take care of Max financially, he offered an experimental genetic therapy he believed would change Max's life.
Ace hadn't known the nature of Savior's experiments then. She, like the bulk of Elias's security team, hadn't known any more about genesis than the general population. So she'd jumped at the chance.
That decision changed her life, and it remade Max's. Before Savior, Max lived trapped in his imagination with no way to communicate how he saw the world. Now, people all over the planet clamored to pay any price for a trip inside his head.
Things change.
Ace pushed away from the desk and checked the time as she stood. She was tired after a long day of surprises, but she couldn't hand off the watch yet. Elias and the others weren't back. Until they checked in or returned, she had to stay awake and alert, just in case something went wrong.
"Ace, come in," Coop's voice shouted from the com hanging on a hook by the bed. His tone told her the wait was over.
She grabbed the com and clicked it off speaker as she looped it around her ear. "Go ahead."
"Something's up with Kate," he replied. "She pounded on my door going apeshit about them being in trouble. She's screaming about some monster."
"Who's them?" Ace asked. She grabbed her pistol off the night stand and checked it before sliding it in the cross-draw holster on her hip. She didn't think she'd need it, but carrying it was more habit than anything else. She stepped into the hall and headed for the main corridor.
"Nikki—and I think Michael," Coop answered in Ace's ear. She heard him trying to calm Kate before he cut the mic on his end.
Ace stopped and closed her eyes. She'd seen a few signs since Kate had come out of hiding, but this could be proof that Kate's grasp of reality was suffering.
"I'm on my way," she said, stepping around the corner. "Try to calm her, but let her talk. Arguing with her—" she almost said "delusion" but caught herself. "It will just upset her more." Thanks to Max's childhood, Ace knew her way around minor breaks with reality, delusions, and even full blown hallucinations.
"If she thinks Nikki and Michael are in some kind of…" She trailed off as she spotted the mag-lock lying on the floor next to the open door and the crude gear somebody had used to bypass it.
"Kate, wait!" Coop shouted over the com. "Ace, she's running your way. She keeps saying he's hurting—"
Ace pressed the break-in squawk to cut him off as she turned and sprinted back toward her room. "Leave her. Arm heavy and get to the vault. Now. Grab a trauma kit on the way."
Coop acknowledged the order as Ace reached her room. She grabbed the SMG off the rack by her door, checked the mag, and charged the action by the time she rounded the corner again.
Kate was running hard for the door to the lower level, but Ace got there first and blocked her way.
"Ace, they're—"
"I know," she cut Kate off. "I'm going to get her. You, stay here."
Kate's eyes held the terrified determination of a soldier charging into enemy fire knowing she wouldn't come out of it, a look that barely relaxed at Ace's command. That look was a good sign. It denoted awareness of danger, the real kind. It said Kate hadn't totally lost her grip. Kate looked at Ace for a second like she was about to argue. Then she nodded and backed up against the opposite wall of the corridor, her gaze dropping like she could see the vault through the concrete and rock below.
"Hurry. Please." Kate's voice sounded as grounded as always, if shaken. "I can't h
ear them anymore."
Not a good sign at all, but Ace had to shelve that problem for later. Bringing up her SMG, she spun and hopped through the door. She took the steps two at a time in the half light. Not the best way to advance into a blind situation, but Kate's anxiety was infectious.
"Nikki, do I have to tattoo 'off limits' on your forehead?" she shouted as she pounded down the steps.
No answer.
When she spun around the last curve, sighting down her weapon, she found the corridor empty. Ahead on the left, the vault door was still shut. Maybe Kate had been wrong.
Somebody had fried the mag-lock—Nikki for sure—but maybe she'd already come and gone. Not even she would be foolhardy enough to lock herself in a room with Gideon considering his situation.
"Coop, was Nikki in her room?"
"Didn't check," his breathless voice crackled back over the com.
"Double time back there and see." Ace clicked off the com as she neared the vault door. Maybe all the excitement was for nothing.
She rapped a knuckle on the door and grabbed the locking wheel. She was about to give the wheel a spin when something slammed into the door from the inside and roared. The wall and door were thick enough to muffle most sound, but the feral roar was loud enough to penetrate the tiny gaps between steel and stone.
Ace pulled her hand away and took a half step back. Then she heard another sound from inside that made her blood run cold. The scream was faint, not strong enough for her to make out the words, but it was Nikki's voice, without a doubt. And it was coming from inside the vault.
"Coop, get down here now!" she shouted into the com. She hated when people shouted into coms, but some situations short-circuited logic. She brought the SMG up in one hand and spun the wheel with the other.
Don't let me be too late.
She backpedaled to clear the door swing as soon the lock disengaged, but she was barely fast enough. The door shot open as soon as her hand cleared the wheel. The heavy steel slammed into the wall as the creature charged through and into Ace.
Gideon's human arm caught her, not the creature's, but it was backed by enough strength to send her sprawling.