Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  He was impressed that she hadn’t dropped the gun; he also thought it was lucky that she hadn’t shot him on accident. He bent down and pulled it out of her limp hand. Ah, the safety was on. That explained it. Her head swung to the side and she blinked at him.

  “You okay?” he asked, only laughing a little.

  “Wh...wha…?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there.” He started to help her up, but her legs weren’t functioning yet. “She has a bit of a temper.”

  He put her arm over his shoulder, turning when the door across the aisle opened up and an old man barked, “What the hell is going on out here?”

  “Sorry. Too much of a good thing.”

  The man looked at Cord and the woman barely able to stand hanging onto him with her head drooping down. He grumbled, “Well keep it down or I’m making a complaint.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry. Won’t bother you…” The door closed.

  Cord turned when Mercy opened the door; as she stepped aside, he carried the bounty hunter over to the couch and dropped her next to her friend. Mercy closed the door, pulled a tube out of her pocket and jabbed it into the woman’s neck.

  “Ouch! What…?” The woman tried to swipe at her neck, but smacked herself in the face instead. “Hey!”

  “I guess we aren’t going to be doing any chatting, then,” he commented.

  Without answering, Mercy fastened the same type of wrist restraints that were on her partner onto her, making sure they were securely hooked through the loop at her waist. When he looked at her handiwork, it was hard not to be impressed. Thinking about how easily she had taken them both down by herself made him wonder if he had really needed to come along. By the time she was done, the woman was out cold. Then she turned mechanically and sat down on the only chair.

  “Guess we could stay here.” Cord suggested, looking around. It took one second, since he was in about the only spare spot in the tiny room. There was a little space at the other end of the couch, but he was not about to go there yet. His eyes returned to Mercy and he frowned.

  She was staring across at the two unconscious women blankly. He looked at them, and then looked back at her. “What’s going on?”

  She blinked but didn’t answer. He stepped into her line of sight, bending over a little to meet her eyes. “Hey. Snap out of it.”

  Her expression didn’t change one bit when she looked at him. “I’m deciding.”

  “Yeah? Deciding what?”

  She shook her head so slowly it was creepy. “You’d never understand.”

  Sigh. Too tired for any of that. “You’re probably right,” he straightened up. “How long does the juice last, you think?”

  She shrugged and continued watching through him. He stepped back to the couch and set both women onto the floor. Then he grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the shelf and lay down. He asked, “You look messed up. Wanna tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing, which is good, I guess. But I don’t know why, because nothing is not what I want to do.”

  Okay, she was talking gibberish. Since he didn’t speak gibberish, he commented, “Well, you did a real sweet something on her. I didn’t know you could do that through a wall. When’d you learn to do that?”

  She shrugged, “Just now.”

  He shook his head, “Impressive. Knocked the shit out of her, too.”

  “I thought that’s what you were doing,” she said, looking at him with the first signs of intelligence.

  He blinked. It was the first sex joke he’d ever heard her utter. He couldn’t even laugh, he was so stunned.

  She lifted one eyebrow, “Too crude?”

  He answered cautiously, “No, not for me. It was funny.”

  “You’re not laughing.”

  “Because you’re making my skin crawl, Mercy. What’s with the personality disorder?”

  Her face dropped: eyes, mouth, everything. It was the most dejected he’d ever seen her. She slumped back in the chair and then squeezed her eyes shut. “Can you please just keep talking for a little while?”

  “Uh, okay.”

  “Something diverting.”

  “Diverting?” Who said diverting? He rubbed his face, pulling his hand down his chin and thinking hard. “Well, here’s a good one. Once, I got hired to do this job, a real good-paying one. Intelligence gathering, mostly, but with some other mischief mixed in. There was this girl, about fourteen, who would not die, no matter how many times she was shot, blown up, kidnapped…”

  “I already know this one. Something else.” She was looking better, rubbing her arms for warmth and obviously following along.

  “Damn, I really like that one...okay. Um, let’s see. Once, when I was a kid, before I could, you know, do any memory stuff, I used to scam people, mostly tourists, for some extra money.” She was looking at him now. “I’d steal their wallets, take whatever money was there, replace the wallet and then introduce myself and offer to give them guide services on a pay later basis.” He yawned. “So anyway, I’d show them all over, or run errands, whatever they needed, all the while hamming it up with Mr. Cute Kid. Then, it would be time to pay the nice boy, but, damn, where’s the money? Oh well, how about you come along to the bank? Or how about we buy you dinner? Sure mister, whatever is fine. I’m just glad to help.”

  She was watching with interest now, which kind of bugged him. Since she seemed to be back to normal, he rearranged the pillow and closed his eyes. “Best damn scam under twelve.” He yawned again. “Mercy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a baby asleep on the floor.”

  “I know. His name is Jo...”

  No. No names. Names are trouble. “That baby is not coming with us.”

  Sigh. “I know.”

  “Good.” He was worried there for a bit. He had already done a pretty good job of ignoring the fact that she wasn’t holding onto him. She loved to hold people, and children were second on the list.

  Tucking the blanket under his chin and not thinking about it.

  He managed to pull his eyes open again when she spoke.

  “Cord, thanks. I was freaking out a little there.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” Don’t want to know. Don’t really care. “They been on us since we left. Might be someone at the next stop.”

  “Yeah. It was close this time.”

  “No, not that close.” It would have been close if they were the ones tied up on the floor. “But it seems like the list of people we have to look out for keeps growing. These guys aren’t even related to the Scere.”

  “Yeah, this group is just casting for powered Humans.”

  “You had to do your research,” he complained. “That was mistake number one.”

  “Yeah. You’re right, but I don’t regret it. I got some great information from Alan.” She thought for a moment. “We have to be really careful, now.”

  He knew she was worrying about leading anyone back to their home. He closed his eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath. “We’ve got another eight hours before our stop. Let’s get what sleep we can and then decide what we’re going to do.”

  He heard her get up and he peered through his eyelashes when she approached the couch, stepping past the women. She grabbed another blanket and two pillows from above him, threw them down by the baby and lay down. She pulled him into her arms, squeezing her eyes closed again when she pressed her forehead on his. She started to shake a little.

  Cord turned and faced the wall and tried to go to sleep. It was hard, though, with the noise floating up from the floor.

  Chapter 22

  The bullet missed his chest but hit him in the arm.

  Shit. He dove for the shelter of the row of cabinets on his left, running his eyes over the room before half of it it disappeared behind the metal. The man that had just taken a serious hit to the head, who had dropped like a rock and lain so still Scythe had actually stopped to check if he had killed him, was shooting at him from the floor.

  That was a go
od lesson for him. The man had to have at least a minor concussion, he had blood dripping into his eye, he was propped up on his elbow, and he still could get in a pretty good shot from across the room.

  Scythe was already running down the row of filing cabinets, shelves and storage units when he heard the voices and the pounding of feet behind him. One sharp turn and then he bolted through the door. He lifted a leg to leap up onto the railing, jumping off and swinging the second leg to create the momentum he needed to carry himself across the narrow alley and down onto the balcony of the building across the way. He crashed into the wall, and then turned and put his back to it. He pushed off with his hands, sprung up to the wooden rail and took a second jump to land on the wide outcropping that ran along the building one floor below the one that he had just exited.

  He landed right in front of the window he wanted, one that was cracked open to let in just enough of the winter breeze to take a little of the stuffy smell out of the apartment. He lifted it up and slid inside, pulling the window down to just where it had been. He heard the door above him open up and the voices of those who had been alerted by Nice Shot drifted down to him.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “The scent stops here. He must have jumped.”

  “Five stories?”

  “Just get down there and look around. Ron, you’re with me.”

  Scythe went to the bathroom and took a minute to look at his shoulder in the mirror. The bullet was lodged in the muscle and the arm was nearly useless, but at least he hadn’t gotten the bone and he was damn lucky to have missed the artery. It was hurting pretty badly, but it would be worse when the adrenaline wore off. The most dangerous part of it was that the smell would give him away to any Kin, so he carefully pulled his backpack off, and pulled out a small leather kit from one of the pockets. He cleaned up the area around the bullet hole and packed it with a powdery packet that immediately reacted with the blood. That would take care of the bleeding for now, but he needed to get it looked at right away. So far he hadn’t felt any symptoms, but he knew he could go into shock at any moment.

  The owner of this apartment worked until late into the evening, so he wasn’t worried about being walked in on, but eventually they’d get around to checking each apartment. It was time to go.

  He grabbed a dark green jacket out of the closet, put it on slower than he would have liked, and zipped it all the way up. It wouldn’t cover all of the scent, but it would mute it. He went to the door, checked the hall and then strode to the stairs. One quick glance, and he knew it was safe. He went up one flight and then cracked the door. There was a little noise to the right, but it was distant. Luckily, they were being very thorough in their search for him.

  He crossed the hall and went to the door that he had lost a few moments opening a short while ago, but was now unlocked. He walked in after giving the room a quick once over, locked the door behind him and made his way to the thing he had come for in the first place.

  A Scythe just five years older than the one bending down and opening up the casing of the computer on the floor stood by the desk. It was a slow process with one hand. He said, “You can’t be getting much from this one.”

  Scythe didn’t respond. He pulled a thin plastic and metal rectangular card out of his pocket and snapped it into a slot on the board. He started to replace the casing and return the computer to its exact spot under the desk.

  “It’s going to suck in a minute, though. Hey, does it bother you if I give stuff away?” He was tired of being tired and it was making him irritable.

  Scythe stood and turned around just as the doorknob jiggled.

  “Don’t forget the money,” he advised, just as Scythe went to the top drawer of the desk and, pulling on it, found it locked.

  Scythe zipped down his jacket, took out his gun and shot the lock just as the door swung open. He aimed his gun at the two men, and shot just after they ducked back into the hall. He continued to shoot for a few seconds, and then lay the gun on the desk so that he could throw open the drawer and grab a handful of the thick stack of large bills that were lined up neatly inside. He put two in each jacket pocket and then looked up when Nice Shot appeared from the hallway Scythe had run down earlier.

  They stared at each other for a second. Scythe’s hand hovered over his gun. Nice Shot had his gun in his hand, but it was lowered. His hair was wet, and the blood had been recently washed off his face, but the cut from the blow to the head continued to seep slowly, inching its way past the bandage that he had covered it with.

  The Scythe ghost smiled and said, “Shoot!”

  They both moved at the same time. Scythe grabbed his gun, lifted and shot. Nice Shot raised his gun and shot. This time Nice Shot hit him in the chest, for which Scythe was grateful, even though it knocked him back a step and hurt like hell; it felt like a spear was being shoved into his shoulder. Still, better than the alternative, he thought.

  It was too bad Nice Shot didn’t have a vest like Scythe’s. He went down, knocked back into the corner of the first file cabinet.

  One of the two at the door took his chance, stepped in and fired. Another hit to the chest. Scythe started firing nonstop at the door, and they fell back again. He rushed around the desk and stepped over Nice Shot, this time kicking his weapon away in the process.

  Phantom Scythe stood in his way and said, “Ed, I want to talk to you.”

  Scythe went right through him without hesitating, which made a cold wind spread through his stomach.

  While Scythe ran down the corridor again, his ghost stood and looked at Nice Shot, who was grabbing his heaving, bloody chest. He frowned, as everything faded around him. The memory didn’t have any more information about what happened to Nice Shot. Scythe wondered for the first time if he had died or not. His younger self, of course, hadn’t cared, or even thought to care about a man who had tried to kill him, but Scythe wasn’t that boy anymore.

  He knew that Scythe was right then jumping again across the alley and then taking the planned escape route through the opposite building to a motorcycle he had waiting on the other side. Most of the money he threw up in the air, causing a huge disturbance with the crowds and the traffic. It was a simple trick, but very reliable.

  He would get back to their headquarters and give his report as the doctor worked on his shoulder. The surveillance went as planned, and, with the information they got from it and a few others, the Scere was able to shut down five large illegal operations in nine months.

  Standing in the hall as it washed away, he realized that it was the first time he had been out of a memory without the boy since he had arrived.

  “Hey. Ed.” Scythe said, and only their music answered. Or, rather, only Ed’s music answered. There was very little left of Scythe in it.

  “Edillian?” It was chilly and very empty in the dark. Then, Scythe felt a change in the air around him. The world shifted and he found himself in the next memory.

  Scythe stood next to himself, watching with a growing feeling of dread as the young man searched through the database for some clue to the identity of the porn dealer. It had to be there someplace.

  “Ed. Talk to me.” Scythe said to the younger vision of himself.

  The only answer was the quiet tapping of the keys on the keyboard and the clicking of the mouse.

  -----------

  Mercy woke up feeling much better than she had the night before. The experience had faded to something resembling a dream, now that the morning light warmed the room and the young boy warmed her chest. She wrapped him in her arms and her power joined with him easily.

  Beautiful.

  Connecting with a baby was a unique and special experience. They had almost no filter, so everything they felt and thought poured out into the shared space. She had found, however, that small children couldn’t deal with too much from a complex, mature mind, so she had to block out nearly everything from her side. That was why she hadn’t trusted herself to take hold of him the night before, wh
en she was thinking some very harsh and disturbing thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to spread Helaine’s contamination to him.

  That’s what it had been, a contamination. She had realized it while she listened to Cord’s surprisingly soothing voice. She also found that it had become her habit to take too much from the people she connected with. Since she usually touched people who were like her in fundamental ways, she hadn’t really noticed it before. But, during her time with Helaine, she had been soaking up a polluted, twisted, completely self indulgent personality each second they touched. When it became too much, a protective instinct stepped forward and shut a part of her away.

  Fortunately, time and distraction had allowed her to undergo a detoxification. Jonah had helped a lot with that after she woke up, cheering her with his bright, clear self.

  Cord had helped too, the night before, just by being an anchored, reliable someone that she could cling to when the waves crashed against her, waves that wanted to drag her into the ocean where killing was as natural as, and as necessary as, swimming.

  She didn’t feel those urges now that her own personality had mostly reestablished itself, but she did remember clearly what she had felt, and why. Some of it, some of Helaine, had stuck, had stained her, and she felt the change all the way down to the center of who she was. And because of it, Mercy knew two things that she didn’t know before. One was that some people were damn close to irredeemable, and two, that doing nothing, that resisting the urge to pinch off the unwanted growth, meant that others suffered.

  How many people’s lives had she ruined, this one woman? How many more were in store for the same, because she and Cord were going to walk away from her here? Doing the right thing for Mercy meant living a peaceful life where she did not harm others. But her peaceful choice meant violence for others. What would the family of the next missing powered teen think of her decision?

  Her father would be appalled, and probably lecture her for hours, at the idea of an irredeemable person. A day ago, she would have stood by him and joined in. But, yesterday was gone forever, along with her ignorance. After last night, she knew better. Some people were bone deep bad.