by R S Penney
Karl came running around the back of the house with the pistol held in both hands. He stopped in his tracks, then turned on his heel to point the gun at her.
Anna raised her right hand, calling on Seth to craft a Bending. The air in front of her palm rippled, light twisting into a whirlpool of colour. Bullets struck the large shield she had crafted, each one slowing just long enough for her to watch them veer off course and fly into the forest.
A light tingling sensation was beginning to spread through her skin, a prickle that would soon turn to pain as she maintained her Bending. Karl was smart enough to devise a useful strategy. He fired at a slow, steady rate, forcing her to keep the Bending up.
Gritting her teeth, Anna felt tears rolling over her cheeks in hot, sticky trails. “Come on, you bastard,” she said, tossing her head back. “You have to run out of ammo sooner or later.”
He just kept firing.
Only one thing to do.
As much as she hated it, there was only one way to put an end to this. It was either him or her. With a thought, she wrapped the fabric of space-time back upon itself. Seth protested, but she urged him to hang on.
The next bullet slowed to a crawl mere inches away from her face, then followed a curving path back toward its master. Karl stumbled as something hit him hard, his blurry image jerking about.
Anna released the Bending.
Her opponent fell backward to land in the grass, clutching his thigh with both hands and shrieking in pain. He tossed his head about, writhing on the ground. No, no, no. I did not kill him!
Anna ran to him.
Images formed in her mind's eye, foggy silhouettes that came around from the front of the property, and she looked back to see Harlan and two other Keepers standing there. “Are you all right?” her CO asked.
Anna let her head hang, but despite the anxiety in her chest, she managed to keep her composure. “I think so,” she said, nodding to him. “This man has been hurt. We need to get him medical attention.”
One of the other Keepers – a young man named Laros – came striding over with his hand on the pistol at his hip. “Took one in the leg, huh?” he said with a sneer for Karl. “I don't think you hit him that hard, Anna.”
“It was his own bullet.”
Laros frowned, shaking his head. “Regardless,” he muttered, squatting down in the grass. “Guy doesn't look like he's bleeding that hard. We'll get him bandaged, then ship him off to a hospital.”
“He'll live?”
“Looks like.”
Anna breathed out a sigh of relief. Tension that she hadn't even noticed until now began to fade away, relieving the pressure on her chest. She didn't know what she would have done if the wound had been fatal. Yes, Karl had been shooting at her; yes, he was a criminal and yes, he had left her with no other recourse. But Anna was not a killer. If her actions led to the death of another human being…she didn't know if she could live with herself. Not after that.
Harlan was full of praise, clapping her on the shoulder, pointing out that she was one of the best officers under his command. Right then, she didn't feel particularly proud of herself. The mission had gone well. It wasn't her fault that Talina had detected her transmission, and once she was discovered, this was the only possible outcome.
Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel that there must have been something she could have done to avoid the necessity of putting a bullet in a man's leg. Worse yet, there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind, a thought that she didn't want to express.
During her training, she had learned that many Keepers inevitably faced a situation where the only way to stay alive was to take another life. She had thought that she would be ready for that harsh reality. But now that she had come close to doing it…
Dex had died shuttling her to Earth, but his passing was not on her conscience. The blame for that belonged to Denario Tarse and no one else. Denario himself had died while fighting her, but that had been a malfunction from his implants. Anna had wounded men and women in the service of the law, but she had never taken a life. So now she had to ask herself…if she was ever in that situation, could she do it? Could she end another life to save her own?
She wasn't sure which answer she would have preferred.
Chapter 26
The house was just too quiet.
At this time of evening, he should have been able to hear Claire watching TV or complaining about her homework – or possibly both, despite his best efforts – while her elder sister played a video game. Melissa was definitely the quiet one, but every now and then, she would perk up with some snarky comment.
The kids had been gone for five days now, and Harry was already starting to feel their absence in a way that gnawed at his mind. Missy… Melissa – it was hard to get used to that – sent him texts and kept them updated as to their situation, but he still felt so very out of touch. Their grandfather was already talking about enrolling them in school. Only five days, and it already seemed like they were settling in.
Of course, the situation here in Ottawa certainly didn't help matters. Schools had been closed for nearly two weeks, and the city was all but shut down. People still went out – businesses remained open because they needed the cash – but there was always a sense of imminent danger. No one wanted to stay in a public space too long. As terrorists went, this Leo was remarkably effective.
Harry sat at the kitchen table in gray pants and a navy-blue shirt, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. It's for the best, he told himself. You don't want the girls anywhere near this city.
He stabbed a piece of steak with his fork.
Popping it into his mouth, Harry closed his eyes and chewed. It's definitely for the best, he thought. And it's not like you can't visit them. A quick jump through a SlipGate, and you'll be right there.
One small advantage to their absence – you had to take your silver linings where you found them – was his ability to eat actual meals. Teenagers had the absolute worst palettes imaginable! Left to her own devices, Melissa would eat pizza every night of the week. He loved a good slice of deep-dish, but there were limits.
Someone knocked on his door.
Dabbing his mouth with a napkin, Harry let out a sigh. He slid his chair back from the table and got up. “All right, I'm coming,” he muttered. “If this is another kid selling girl-scout cookies…”
He made his way through the kitchen, noting with some vexation the pile of dirty dishes he had left in the sink, and stepped into the foyer where the front door stood locked and bolted. Ordinarily, he would not lock it except to go to sleep, but things had gotten bad in his city. Come to think of it, who would be out knocking on doors with a terrorist on the loose?
Harry pulled the door open.
A man in gray coveralls stood on the porch with his head down, his face hidden by the bill of a baseball cap. “Good evening, sir,” he said, looking up. “I was hoping I could have a word.”
Panic ripped through Harry's insides when he recognized the man's features. The first thought that passed through his head was a silent prayer of thanks that he had sent the girls out of town.
The terrorist had found him.
Leo flashed a smile, his eyes sparkling with delight. “What's the matter, Harry?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “Did I catch you at a bad time? I was so hoping we could have a chat.”
Harry tried to force the door shut, but the sudden thump of the other man throwing his weight against it made him jump. Any thought of keeping Leo out died when he felt the man's strength. The door moved but in the wrong direction.
Harry stumbled back.
Leo stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, trembling with a burst of laughter. “It was a good try,” he said. “You can relax; I'm not going to kill you. I just want you to do one little thing.”
Harry looked up to squint at the man. “You must be joking,” he said, shaking his head. “You really think I'm going to negotiate with you? I take out my phone,
and there'll be a hundred cops here in five minutes.”
Leo shut the door.
He leaned against it with arms crossed, smiling down at the floor. “I can't stop you from trying,” he said. “But the real question is whether you can get the phone out of your pocket before I rip out your throat.”
The growing tension in Harry's chest made him acutely aware of his own heartbeat. He had seen the security footage; this man fought with speed and skill that rivaled Jack's, and there was no doubt in his mind that a Justice Keeper could tear him apart in the time it took him to deactivate the phone's keyguard.
He had to think. There was a way to beat this man if he could just find enough time to formulate a plan. “What do you want?” he muttered. Keep the bastard talking. Stall for time. He had an old service revolver in his nightstand. If he could get to it…
Leo studied him with a tight frown, his face growing redder with every breath. “I want to kill your friend Jack,” he said. “The man's continued existence is like bile in my mouth. If you convince him to come here, I'll let you live.”
“Not a chance.”
“I could kill you,” Leo said. “It would certainly make Hunter that much more eager to come after me, but I really want this over with tonight. Just get him here, and you can go back to your mediocre existence.”
“Fuck you.”
Grinning like a kid in a candy-store, Leo turned his face up to the ceiling. “Your defiance surprises me,” he said, deep creases forming in his brow. “Think about it, Harry. You have two daughters who need a dad.”
A bread knife was sitting on the kitchen counter, covered in crumbs from the loaf he had sliced earlier. If he could get it and shove it through the man's throat… “I will not betray a friend.”
Harry shut his eyes, ashamed of the single tear that rolled over his cheek. “You can kill me if you want to,” he said. “But nothing you can do will make me betray the people I care about.”
The other man was talking, but Harry stopped paying attention. If he was going to end this, he had to do it while his opponent was distracted. Quick as a pouncing cat, he grabbed the knife in one hand.
He twisted around and lifted it as though he intended to stake a vampire. With a growl, he tried to drive the blade through Leo's skull.
The man caught his wrist.
A quick punch to the face made Harry's vision darken, and the world tumbled as his sense of balance was destroyed. Something hit him in the stomach, forcing him to stagger back through the kitchen.
He fell forward, landing hard on the floor, cool ceramic tiles pressing into his cheek. That was a bad idea, Harry thought, trying to get up. Dizziness kept him down. A very, very bad idea.
Through a haze of tears, he saw Leo come toward him with the knife in hand. The other man paused and shook his head. “I'm surprised at you,” he said. “I'd have expected you to have more sense.”
He crouched down.
An instant later, the knife was pressed to Harry's throat, causing him to howl at the sting of serrated teeth on his skin. “Now call Hunter,” Leo insisted. “I'm not going to ask you again.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, we think we're brave, do we?” Leo hissed. “I don't know where you sent your daughters, but I guarantee you that I can find them in about three hours. Tops. Your eldest is what? Sixteen? Defy me one more time, and I promise you that I'll be in her bedroom by sunrise, having myself a wicked good time.”
The mental image brought rage along with terror and a sense of total helplessness, helplessness that only stoked his anger even further. He would not let this man anywhere near his kids. But what could he do? Leo would kill him before he even made it halfway up the stairs. The gun wasn't an option.
Calling for help would be the best option, but that was precisely what Leo wanted him to do. If he asked Jack to come here, he would be leading his friend right into a trap. And Leo wasn't likely to let him call anyone else. So it was a moral decision. Jack or his kids? Which did he choose?
In the end, the decision was simple. Jack had a chance of surviving an encounter with this monster. Melissa and Claire? They would be nothing but lambs waiting for the slaughter. “I'll call him,” Harry whispered.
He hated himself.
A sly grin stretched across Leo's face, and he sniffled as though the gesture tugged at his heartstrings. “I can't tell you how happy that makes me,” he said, shaking his head. “Don't worry, Harry. I'm a man of my word.”
“I'm sure you are.”
“When Hunter is dead,” the bastard went on as though he had not even sensed the sarcasm in Harry's voice, “your family is safe.”
Harry took out his phone.
Swiping his thumb across the screen in a zigzag pattern, he disabled the keyguard and brought up the menu. Jack's number was a few slots down on his recently-dialed list. He swiped to make a call, specifying audio only. He was tempted to do a video call and hope that Leo wouldn't notice, but there was no telling what Jack would say when he saw the blood dripping from Harry's nose. And that could make an already volatile situation so much worse.
A moment later, the screen lit up with the image of Jack's contact photo. “Hello?” a pleasant voice said through the speaker.
Closing his eyes, Harry took a deep breath. “Jack,” he said, bringing the receiver to his ear. “What are you up to tonight? I've been pretty lonely without the kids, and I was wondering if you'd like to grab a drink.”
“Harry?” Jack replied. “You okay?”
How did he answer that one? Was there something he could say, something that Jack would pick up on but Leo would miss? Nothing came to mind. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said. “So, do you want to come by?”
“Sure, if you're up for it,” Jack answered. “Between you and me, you're sounding a little worn out.”
“I was at the gym.”
“Ah.”
Harry winced, pressing a fist to his forehead. He wiped sticky sweat away with the knuckle of his thumb. “Look, if you're not up for it, I understand. I was just trying to take my mind off everything.”
“No, it's cool. I'll be there in half an hour.”
“Great.”
Ten seconds after he hung up, Leo stood and frowned down at him. “You know, if I didn't know better,” he said, “I would have thought you were trying to persuade Hunter to stay home. But then I'd kill your family if you did that, so…”
“I was trying to sound natural.”
Leo brought up his forearm and started tapping away at the multi-tool that he wore on a gauntlet, a scowl twisting his features. “Yes, well,” he muttered. “Luckily for you, it worked. Now, you won't be needing that phone.”
Harry looked down at the phone in his hand to discover the words “No signal” on the homescreen. Somehow, Leo had created some kind of interference. So much for his hopes of calling the cops; inwardly, he cursed himself for deciding to save money by foregoing a landline.
Now all he could do was wait.
A tall streetlight was visible through the windshield of Jack's little old Honda Fit, casting orange light down upon a sidewalk lined with small bungalows and back-split houses. Harry lived in an old neighbourhood with an aging population. Many of these homes had been built in the '80s.
He opened the door.
With a sigh, Jack got out of the car and swung it shut again. The pain in his hands was gone – thank God Almighty – but he still felt incredibly tired. Healing took a toll on the body.
He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt under his brown jacket, his hair still damp from a quick shower. Come on, Hunter, he told himself. Get out and socialize. It'll do you good.
Jack leaned against the side of his car with his arms folded, frowning down at the ground. The last couple days had been stressful to say the least. He still felt pretty damn guilty about persuading Selena to violate her ethics. He believed in journalistic integrity, but it was a question of abstract ethics vs real human lives. Which should come fi
rst in the mind of a Keeper?
When he looked up, he saw Harry's house on the other side of the road. The small back-split home had a large window that looked in on the living room and a light above the porch that illuminated the front lawn. Well, his friend was-
The front door swung open.
Harry came stumbling out, crashing into the railing that surrounded the raised front porch. The man wheezed and hunched over as if he'd been kicked in the belly. “Jack, run…” he managed.
A man in gray coveralls stepped out behind him, his blonde hair a mess of tangles and snarls. Fear seized Jack's heart. “The detective was kind enough to invite you to our little party,” Leo said. “But he seems determined to avoid having any fun no matter how hard I try to persuade him.”
Jack strode forward.
Clenching his teeth, he hissed and felt drops of spit fly from his mouth. “You sicken me,” he said, shaking his head. “Beating up an older man with no special abilities. What's the matter, Leo? Were the school children too much for you?”
Leo replied with a cocky grin, shaking his head slowly. “You must realize that the detective here was never my real target,” he said. “You were always the guest of honour, Jack. Be proud of yourself.”
“I'll be proud when I rip you to pieces.”
“That's more like it!”
Leo snapped his fingers, spinning on his heel and marching down the steps that led up to the porch. “Rage, Jack!” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I want to see the side of you that only comes out when you lose control.”
Jack stopped in the middle of the front lawn. This was as much about psychological warfare as it was about fisticuffs; he had to remember that, or he was done for. “So what's with the coveralls?” he asked. “Is that supposed to be a new fashion statement, or did you just finish shooting a centrefold in next month's Naughty Janitors?”
Leo stood in front of the large bay window with hands at his sides, trembling with cruel laughter. “You have a sister, don't you?” he asked. “When this is over, I think I'll go look her up.”