The distance between them vanished and she was standing on the other side of the desk. He paid her no attention. This was not her first time waging war on another person’s psyche. Each instance before, the person had been hysterical, almost mad in their approach. He almost seemed serene. She had never met somebody so calm when she entered their mind.
In the office, standing near the only door, were two guards. She had no desire to infiltrate the minds of humans, but something about the two guards appeared missing. She reached out with her fingers, her thoughts gently grazing theirs. She pulled back her fingers, clutching them as if she had been shocked. Where she expected a collection of the human experience, she found the two guards were vacant, thoughtless husks.
She squinted, trying to focus on the two sentries standing watch at his door. She could normally touch their minds and see their faces from their own self-perception. Where there should have been faces were only two blank heads with twisted smiles. She drew back, avoiding their empty souls.
The small office looked like any other would, down to the desk, the chairs, even the paperwork strewn across his desk. However, as the room ended, where walls should have been there was only darkness. It appeared as if the platform on which they stood was hovering in a perpetual black void.
She started for the sword hanging from her hip, her hand resting on the pommel. She reached over with her other hand, creeping it along her stomach until she gripped the handle of the sword. She drew the massive piece of metal in a single fluid motion and held the sword in front of her with both hands.
She wasn’t alone. She couldn’t hear anybody, but it would be impossible for a telepath as strong as him to move without being felt. His movements should be as loud as boots dragging across gravel. She reacted, spinning just as a shadow emerged from the darkness. The shadow’s weapon clashed against hers as he begun to laugh.
“Did you think my body would be so primitive, angel?”
The telepath’s psyche consisted of dense smoke, wisps radiating outward from the human-like figure. His mace pressed against her sword. The weight of his body behind the weapon was nothing more than his determination, she thought. She could only imagine a man this cocky had reasons for such an inflated ego.
“More arrogant than I expected,” she said.
“Here, arrogance is strength.”
She turned her sword, catching the smoky weapon hard enough it made her arms vibrate. Each blow possessed more power. She knew they weren’t physically confronting one another and the weapons at their disposal were only symbolic representations of a battle between their minds, but she could already see he was far more versed at this than she. The faint delight she had experienced when she found another living telepath was replaced with seething anger as she pushed his club away from her body.
“You radiate weakness,” he said, slamming the mace into her sword again.
She knocked aside his blow and jabbed with her sword, thrusting it through the shadow. As the blade pushed through the thickness of the smoke, she twisted it, savoring her victory. She paused when the expression on his face turned to a smile. His laughter mocked her attempt to slay him.
The shadows making the man dissolved away into nothing. She pulled the sword back and stared at the spot where he had been standing. Before she could register the action, she spun around, sword out, knocking away an axe-like shape. She brought the sword back around and pushed a long spear out wide, deflecting it from connecting with her body.
“You’ve practiced, angel,” said an echo of voices.
Where there had been one attacker, the smoke split apart into two, both identical to the first. She took several steps back from the smoky figures. She watched as wisps moved between the humanoids, as if they were conjoined by black tendrils. She cursed herself for being enamored by another telepath. She cursed herself for not anticipating how adept he would be. Where he had power, she had cunning and speed. She dug her heels into the imaginary ground. There was no way he was leaving alive.
She dropped into a crouch and spun on the ball of her foot. Her wings stretched out, slicing through legs of smoke. She carried her momentum forward, standing upright, passing her sword through both figures. She didn’t hesitate as she sensed another body lunging at her. She ducked, letting whatever weapon it held cut above her back. She dropped to one knee and brought her sword back, sinking it into the flesh of another shadow.
Her physical body would be sweating, aching from the conflict, ready to see it over. Her mind, however—her mind craved the fast-paced stimuli; here she could fight indefinitely. She turned to see another figure. Before she could lift her sword, tendrils of smoke grasped her face. The sensation was as real as if a person pressed their hand against her skin, but as the tendrils flowed across her face, she could feel a pain spreading through her body.
“You’re a child to me,” said the voice.
She cried out as the pressure behind her eyes began to swell. The sword fell from her grasp and she reached out to scratch at the hands around her face. Tendrils of smoke emerged from the tips of his fingers and began to seep into her skin. The pain intensified along her spine. She could sense his strength, his will, beginning to penetrate her mind.
The room blurred and she was standing in a large church. A man she had long since buried was standing over her. His black clothes and white collar reminded her of the horrors she used to endure. She had the urge to run, fleeing her tormentor. The aisle led to the altar, a cross with Jesus Christ hanging above it, his head wrapped in a crown of thorns. The rose window should have let in an ethereal light, but now it stood dark, a symbol of the church for her so many years ago.
As she attempted to move she could feel her legs, solid as stone, holding her hostage in this nightmare. She tried to will away the heaviness, but found her limbs refused to cooperate. She flapped her wings in a panic, hoping she could remove herself from this nightmare.
“Demon spawn,” came the priest’s chalky voice. She wept the moment he spoke, saying words she heard day after day for years. At any moment she would feel the sting of the belt across her back, making welts and splitting her alabaster skin. She closed her eyes and tried to will away the man and his instrument of retribution. Cries began to pour out of her mouth at the first of many strikes he forced her to endure. She shivered at it, biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry out loud again.
“I cast you out,” the voice boomed.
She gasped at the sting of another blow from the belt. Her eyes clenched shut as her hands hid her face from the evil man. The smacking of the belt in his hand told her he was debating on how many strikes she would need to be cleansed. The sound of footsteps worked around her until the man was standing directly in front of her frozen self. She dared to peek through her fingers. Where she expected to see the priest staring back at her, another smoky figure grinned. Her mind was a swirl of confusion, memories mixed with the present.
As the belt came flying toward her face again, she reached out and grabbed the piece of leather. She shot up from her kneeling position and lunged at the man. She took him to the ground and began to claw at his face. The rage consumed her as she continued to rake her talons against his face. Finally, the man’s body went lifeless below her.
She sat up and saw the image of the priest, still, his body void of life. She screamed at the memory. The screams returned, echoing off the massive stone walls. Tears ran down her face, dripping onto the corpse. She lifted her hands, looking at the silky smooth skin. As she wiped away her tears, she smelled his aftershave, a musky scent she couldn’t wash out of her pillows.
She wailed. Her scream turned primal as she purged her lungs of the musk wafting off his body. The man had been her tormenter for so long. When the pain became too much she always reminded herself she was better than him. Now, as she looked down at his glassy eyes, he had won.
Laughter came from the shadows of the massive cathedral. She tried to find the source until she saw the man below her, his
bloodied body laughing. Where his bloodshot eyes had been, they were replaced with dark eyes with red halos. “So much potential and yet you’re lost to your own fears.”
She grabbed his shoulders and slammed his head against the ground. She continued screaming with each blow. She slumped to the ground, exhausting herself. The remnants of laughter still filled the air. “This isn’t me.”
“But it is…” He let the next word hang on the tip of his tongue. “Demon.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
May 20th, 2032 7:26AM
Jasmine looked at the door and saw how its many latches fed into the wall, keeping it secure. She grabbed one and began to pull it back. She grunted at the strain but was elated that the metal was bending. She ripped it off and then began on the next. A moment later she hurled her body against the door and it flew open.
“Holy shit,” Skits said.
“That’s one impressive bitch,” Dwayne said.
They ran down the corridor and came to a large door. Jasmine gave it a firm punch but pulled her fist back, shaking it off. “It’s denser than any other metal I’ve seen in this place.”
“This door shouldn’t be here. Dav5d’s blueprints didn’t have anything blocking our way. It should be a straight shot to the Warden.”
“Can you open it?” asked Dwayne.
“You took out the main power. Auxiliary power will be up shortly, I’m doing what I can.” Jasmine pulled open a small panel next to the door and examined the wires. “Maybe we can—”
They all turned as the loud clank of footfalls stomping down the hall grew louder. Jasmine cursed under her breath. “Synthetics.”
She put her hand on the door. Even through the dense epidermal layer of her skin, her powers let her sense the metal under her fingertips. Her abilities flared to life, the cells of her body mimicking the metal. The pain rippled through spine. She buckled over and fell to her knees, gasping loudly as her skin transformed.
“What did you do?”
“My skin,” she said through gritted teeth, “mimics density of what it touches.”
Dwayne reached up to one of the emergency lights above them. “Sounds painful,” he said as he ripped open the panel.
“It is,” Jasmine said, forcing herself back to her feet.
Dwayne pulled the wires out and electricity jumped from them onto his hand. He covered the end of the wires and leaned his head back. A smile spread across his lips as his eyes started to spark. “Ammo.”
The first synthetic marched around the corner. The human-like figure held up its arms. Both palms flared to life as lasers rapidly fired. Skits ducked behind Jasmine, who didn’t flinch as the lasers pelted her body. Where the laser had penetrated her hide before, now, with the new metallic skin, she couldn’t even feel the red beams pelting her.
Jasmine laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Her muscles strained against the weight of her skin. It felt as if she was moving through water and her body was finding it difficult to cooperate. The stinging sensation of her abilities still coursed through her as muscles adapted to the newest synched material.
The synthetic was joined by another and the lasers began to intensify as they sank into Jasmine’s flesh. “Stupid machines.”
The first robot grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the ground. She flexed and found that she couldn’t even feel the touch of the machine. The other grabbed her head and tried to spin her neck. She felt the tiniest tug. She laughed. “What are they trying to hide back there? Nobody puts in doors like that unless they’re trying to keep people out.”
Dwayne stared in amazement as she crushed the skull of one robot and tore the head off the other. “She’s crazy.”
“My kind of woman,” Skits said.
“Do we help her?”
Skits kinked her neck to the side. “We slaughter them.”
Jasmine reached up, snatched at both of the guns producing bursts of light, and ripped them from the synthetics. The robots clung to her, trying to drag her down to the ground. They punched at her midsection but the loud thuds didn’t bother Jasmine. She freed an arm, grabbed one skull, and began to squeeze. The dense material under her hand resisted. Her powers avoided mimicking the material, favoring the densest metal they had ever absorbed.
The skull was crushed in her grip. The other machine braced its legs against the wall and pushed, knocking Jasmine backward. As they landed, her body dented the grates beneath her. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much her weight had increased.
The machine was reaching for her head and she could feel its claws scraping along her face. It finally settled on attempting to wedge its thumbs into her eyes. She grabbed its hands and tried to pull it free. She was fully aware, after numerous experiments by her previous employer, that her eyes were not affected by her powers.
She was about to scream when she saw the blue light severing the machine’s head. She could feel the distant heat, but was more shocked by the brightness so close to her face. She looked up to see Skits standing over her. “Stop hogging the fun.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Damn straight.”
“Holy shit,” Dwayne said, staring down the long corridor to where another twenty synthetics marched toward them.
He ran back to the panel, examining the exposed wires. Jasmine stood between him and the synthetics, using her body as a shield. Dwayne reached into the panel, grabbing at wires and pulled until sparks started to jump his arm into the control box. The plastic around the wires melted and the panel lit up for a moment.
The large blast door began to open. A loud groan filled the room. The door only split a little more than a foot before coming to a halt, freezing into place.
“Best I can do,” Dwayne said.
“We’ll take it,” Skits said, panicking as she looked at the robots over her shoulder.
Skits easily slid into the gap and Dwayne wiggled his way through, swearing he’d diet if they made it out alive. Jasmine started to claw at the doors but found that her stiff skin made it impossible for her to fit.
She grit her teeth and imagined a layer of light clinging to her skin, then shattering and falling away. The searing sensation throughout was uncanny. She had never converted from such a dense material; her body was giving up as the room began to spin.
“What’s happening?” Skits asked.
“She’s turning off her powers.”
Skits grabbed Jasmine’s arm through the gap and pulled. Jasmine’s skin became malleable. A second later, it was as normal as Skits’s. Skits tugged harder on Jasmine’s arm until she slid through the split doors.
Jasmine screamed as a laser skimmed across her forearm. She fell inside the doors.
Dwayne pushed to the side of the parted door. “It’s an elevator,” he said as he poked at the buttons. Unlike the panel on the outside, this one reacted. He slammed it, forcing the motors above them to fire to life.
Skits’s hands lit up and she forced the plasma to spear through the skull of a machine trying to crawl through the gap. Jasmine recognized the fatigue washing over the girl’s body. As soon as the adrenaline faded, she would be unconscious. Jasmine continued to be impressed with how hard each of her acquaintances pushed themselves.
“Die,” she screamed.
She punched into the chest of another mech. Their bodies resisted as the flame around her hands faded. She grit her teeth and began growling. She tensed every muscle in her body and her hands flared one last time. The two machines in the gap melted enough that they were permanent fixtures, blocking the remaining robots.
“Smart,” Dwayne huffed.
She hit the floor. “I have my moments.”
The room began to shift and then drop downward. “This part of the facility has its own power,” Dwayne said as he braced himself in the corner of the elevator.
“What’s that mean?” Skits asked.
“We’re about to find out.”
“
If you get me killed…” Jasmine gasped.
There was a moment of silence. Jasmine winced from the pain in her ear as Alyssa screamed into the communicator. “Pyro.”
Dwayne reached up and barked into the device, “We’re nowhere near you. You and Conthan are on your own.”
Skits had her back against a wall as she slid down into sitting position. “We’re so screwed.”
***
“We’re going to cook alive,” said Alyssa.
“I’m sorry, do you have a better idea?”
“Teleport our asses out of here.”
Conthan looked from Sarah to Alyssa. He realized they were counting on him. He backed up against the far wall and clenched his fists. He thought about the darkness at his control, trying to focus on the part of him that stored this awesome power. There was a dull ache at the base of his skull, making it difficult to find that tingling sensation.
He looked up at Alyssa in dismay. “Nothing.”
“Focus harder,” she barked.
“No,” he said, “I mean it’s like they never existed. I’ve got nothing”
Sarah looked to her friend. “What do you mean, Conthan?”
“Your boyfriend can rip holes through space and time but not when it’s absolutely necessary.”
Sarah looked at him. “You’re one of them?”
“Us,” Alyssa corrected.
Conthan could see the sweat beginning to drip down Sarah’s exposed cheek. Her eyes were judging him. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know she was asking herself why she was locked up and he got to be free. She was having difficulty not letting the sorrow creep onto her face.
Conthan looked away from her. He couldn’t handle seeing her disbelief in him. He would let her be angry when they were far away from here. He knew it was up to him. He clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. He looked at his hands in disbelief. “Gone.”
Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1) Page 25