Live and Let Psi

Home > Other > Live and Let Psi > Page 24
Live and Let Psi Page 24

by D. R. Rosensteel


  “But how do I—” Before I could get the words out, the Kilodan had left with Andy and Mrs. Bagley.

  I pulled out my cell to call Drake and tell him to abort, but blowing his cover with Tammy seemed like a bad idea—it could get him killed. I gazed around Andy’s tech room, looking for…I didn’t know what. Then I realized what the Kilodan had told me to do. He didn’t say, “Call Drake.” He’d said, “Find Drake.” So I shot out of Andy’s lab toward the training room and into my changing closet.

  I pulled my midnight blue uniform from its hanger and slid into the form-fitting pants and top, pulling the armor straps tight. I donned my mask, pulled up my hood, and a Psi Fighter stared back at me from the changing closet mirror. My first impression was that the Knights were outmatched.

  I prayed that was true. A full-fledged Knight was nobody to fiddle with. And if I wasn’t careful, I was about to walk right into a nest of them. Somehow, I had to sneak into the Shadow Passage and get Drake out without being seen. I needed a cloak of invisibility because Drake didn’t have Shimmer mode. He was exposed and, as soon as I showed up, his undercover op would be blown and he would be in terrible danger.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Uninvited Guests

  “Oh, sorry!” Drake rushed into the training room as I was rushing out, and nearly bowled me over.

  “We have to abort your mission,” I said. “Nicolaitan sent another riddle. Dalrymple is the target. They went to save him. Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “We can’t abort,” Drake said. He was out of breath and looked like he had seen a zombie. “Tammy’s on her way to meet Scallion.”

  “Did you plant the tracer?”

  “She was already gone when I got to the Shadow Passage. I texted her to see what was up. When she texted back, she said there had been a change of plan. She’s meeting Scallion alone. She told me that something very big is happening.”

  “Did she say what?”

  Drake shook his head. “I kept asking. She made a joke about Nathanael Greene being red in the face.”

  “This is no coincidence. Did Tammy say where she was meeting Scallion?”

  “The football stadium. Why?”

  “That must be where Dalrymple will be. Come on, Drake, we have to rescue him.”

  “I thought you said the Kilodan was already doing that.”

  “He went to the police station. He doesn’t know where Dalrymple is. I have to tell him.” I hit a button on my armor and sent a message to Andy, telling him what I knew. Then I turned to Drake. “Suit up. We have a murder to stop.”

  …

  We exited the secret passage into the antique caboose on Five Star Trail. The Greensburg skyline sparkled and flickered like stars, but below us, the football field was black as a pit. I zoomed on it as close as the caboose’s monitors would go, but we were too far away. Even when I engaged the surveillance system’s night vision, all I could make out was the dark shape of the bleachers.

  Drake followed me closely as we left the caboose and made our way through underbrush, along concrete barriers, through alleys, anywhere the shadows would cover us. The landscape around the stadium was perfect for hiding. We quickly scaled the fence surrounding the football field and sprinted across the parking lot into the darkness of the bleachers. Without the aid of Shimmer mode built into Drake’s uniform, we had to rely purely on stealth. I was thankful for the dark night because of it.

  It occurred to me that there should have been lights. The field was always lit up at night. The dead man’s head is dark inside…

  “They’re expecting us,” I told Drake. “Be careful.”

  We were beneath the bleachers at the home team end of the field. From our vantage point, the entire football stadium was visible—the goal posts at both ends, the bleachers across the field, and the announcer’s booth above them. My mask’s night vision detected no movement, but I had a feeling we were being watched. The bleachers were empty, but the darkened windows of the announcer’s booth would make it easy to see without being seen.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Drake asked.

  “Announcer’s booth?”

  “Yep. If we stay under the bleachers, we can get there undetected.”

  “Except by me,” a voice said. “I thought you guys were hard to sneak up on.”

  Drake and I spun to face an attack, but instead saw—

  “Mason?” Drake was as shocked as I was.

  “The Knights are in the announcer’s booth and under the bleachers on the other side of the field,” Mason said. “From what I saw, there are a lot of them.”

  “How did you get here?” Drake asked.

  “So, this is what you look like in uniform,” Mason said to Drake. Then to me, “You don’t actually trust him, do you?”

  “You know me?” Drake whispered. “You know her?”

  “Quiet,” I said. “Both of you. Do not say names. Do not act like we know each other. Do either of you understand what it means to hide your identity?”

  “I’ve got nothing to hide,” Mason said. “But he—”

  “You have to leave,” I said. “Now.”

  Mason shook his head. “Sorry, no can do.”

  “Please.”

  “Bodyguard,” he said, pointing to himself. “You said so yourself. Look, they kidnapped Tammy Angel. My dad sent me to the Shadow Passage to see what I could find about her selling stolen merchandise. When I got there, two Knights were dragging her into a car. I overheard them say they were bringing her here to burn. Not even Tammy deserves that.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “I don’t trust them. I came to save her myself.”

  “And I thought Pickles was going to cause me trouble,” I moaned. “You’re no match for them. Please, I can’t fight if I have to protect you.”

  “Hey, I fought Egon and survived.” Mason held up his arm. “Look, Ma, no more cast. I’m in fighting shape again.”

  “I hate to interrupt this awkward situation,” Drake said, “but do you smell that?”

  “What are you talking about?” Then the acrid odor filled my mask. “Yuck, that’s oil. Where is it coming from?”

  “Right there.” Drake pointed to the visiting team’s goal post. A large stack of wood surrounded the base of the goal post, and the unmoving figure of a man was tied to it above the wood. “It’s Dalrymple. They’re going to burn him alive.”

  “What should we do?” Mason asked.

  “Stay hidden,” I ordered. “I’m going into Shimmer. This is a trap, so don’t move.”

  “That doesn’t give me much confidence,” Drake said quietly. “I’m coming with you.”

  “This is the closest thing I have to a plan,” I said. “We need an edge. If they don’t know you’re here, we might have enough of an advantage to keep Dalrymple alive. If they see us both, we have no advantage at all.”

  “Yes, we do,” Drake said. “We’re Psi Fighters. Be careful. Go. I’ll watch your back.”

  “I’ll find Tammy,” Mason said.

  “No. You stay here with Drake. I’ll find Tammy. Drake, when I give the signal, you come out fighting.”

  “Got it,” Drake said. “What’s the sig—”

  “Shimmer,” I said into my mask, and took off at a dead run across the football field. I sped toward the goal posts, silent and invisible. I glanced quickly back at the bleachers, but Drake and Mason were nowhere to be seen. Good.

  White markers sped beneath me as I crossed the fifty yard line, then the forty, the thirty. I slowed my pace at the five, silently closing the gap between Dalrymple and me. He was unmoving, hopefully only unconscious. The smell of oil got stronger. Dalrymple stirred. The wood beneath him was wet with fuel, but whether it was booby-trapped or not, I couldn’t tell. Would my approach ignite it? I couldn’t risk it. So I came out of Shimmer, hoping that showing myself would buy Dalrymple some time.

  Instantly, the stadium lights blazed, and the field was bright as day.
The high school anthem blared over the sound system, and the bleachers crawled to life. Knights slithered from beneath the seats and marched to the beat of the drums onto the field. They moved in a circle around me until I found myself totally surrounded. And badly outnumbered.

  Crossing my arms, I surveyed the army of Knights. “That worked well,” I said into my mask’s com.

  “You did that on purpose?” Drake came back.

  “Of course. It’s not a trap anymore.”

  “No,” Drake said. “Now it’s war. I’m on my way.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “You’ll know when it’s time.”

  “One small problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know where Mason is.”

  “Oh, no. How could you let him out of your sight? You were supposed to watch him.”

  “You forgot to tell him that.”

  On that miserable note, the music stopped, and a voice came over the loudspeaker. “We meet again, Psi Fighter.”

  Scallion. I glanced around the stadium but didn’t see him, so I turned my gaze up to the announcer’s booth.

  “Hiding behind tombstones again, I see. Why don’t you come down and we’ll get to know each other better? We had such a nice conversation last time.”

  “All in good time,” Scallion’s voice echoed. “But first, I’d like to conduct a pre-game warm-up.”

  Without warning, a group of Knights rushed me. Before they could box me in, two of them were flung to the ground as Drake burst through the ring.

  “I’m guessing it’s time,” Drake said as we stood back to back, facing an overwhelming number of Knights.

  A Thought Saber exploded from my Amplifier. “I told you you’d know.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Battle at Offut Field

  The Knights surrounding us wore billowing hoods that hid the features of their masks. I couldn’t tell if they were real Knights or Proletariat, but it didn’t look like they would stop trying to kill me long enough to bring up the subject.

  As swiftly as I could, I plunged my Thought Saber through the Knight closest to me, then dropped to the ground to sweep the legs of the next two. Before they landed, Drake’s Saber had slashed them both. He dove headlong into the horde of Knights, lashing out with a powerful flurry of kicks and punches, slashing fiercely with his Thought Saber, driving them away from me.

  As I fenced against three War Hammer-wielding Knights at the same time, I noticed two things—first, the War Hammer is a nasty weapon, but no match for the much cooler Thought Saber; and second, the Knights that Drake and I had previously slashed with said weapons, who by all rights should have had no control of their limbs, were already pulling themselves awkwardly to their feet.

  “Be careful,” I said. “We’re fighting Proletariat.”

  “When you say be careful,” Drake said as he ducked a particularly fierce War Hammer blow, “do you mean that I should be cautious not to hurt them, or that we are in danger of being murdered by this mob?”

  “Both,” I said, knocking the Amplifier from the hands of an attacking Knight. His War Hammer fizzled out, and I laid him out with a side kick to the jaw.

  Drake stopped a War Hammer in mid-stroke and said, “So much for not hurting them.” He blasted a devastating roundhouse into the Knight’s face, knocking him out cold.

  “I meant don’t hurt them badly.”

  “And getting kicked in the face doesn’t hurt bad? Uh-oh. We have a situation over by the bleachers.”

  I took a quick peek toward the bleachers where Drake and Mason had been hiding. Three Proletariat stood motionless on the sidelines, then one of them disappeared beneath the bleachers as though he had a bungee cord attached to his back. A moment later, he crawled out and stood between the others. He looked in my direction, waved, and slammed both of his elbows into the two remaining Proletariat. Their feet flew out from under them, and they landed flat on their backs.

  “This can not be happening,” I said into my com.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Drake came back.

  “Yes.” I waved at Mason in his stolen Proletariat suit, trying to get him back under the bleachers. He gave me a thumbs-up, then rushed across the field toward Dalrymple. Instantly, a dozen Proletariat were after him.

  “If he gets out of this alive, I swear I’ll kill him myself,” I yelled as I took off across the field toward him. I made it ten feet before I was totally surrounded and lost sight of him. I dove into my new attackers, hoping that my message to Andy had gotten through. Backup couldn’t come soon enough.

  Then, as quickly as the battle had begun, it stopped. Drake and I stood in the middle of a dozen unconscious Knight-puppets, while the rest backed away, blocking our escape. Dalrymple was still unconscious and Mason was gone.

  “Impressive warm-up,” a voice said from high in the stadium. Scallion climbed down the bleacher stairs toward us. “You have defeated my Proletariat. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to up the ante.” He snapped his fingers, and two Knights appeared from behind the wood pile beneath Dalrymple. They carried a blond girl, blindfolded, bound and gagged, struggling and apparently trying to scream at them.

  Tammy Angel.

  “Don’t react,” I said to Drake across our coms.

  The Knights tossed Tammy onto the wood pile at Dalrymple’s feet. She landed with a grunt and continued screaming at them through her gag. One thing I had to say for Angel, she was consistent—totally full of herself whether she was causing trouble or in it. My only chance to save her was to play on the dissension between Scallion and Nicolaitan.

  “You brought us a gift,” I said. “How thoughtful, Mr. Scallion.”

  “Do you recognize her?” Scallion said. “She’s one of your own.”

  I shook my head, thinking, no, but something about you is familiar. “Refresh my memory.”

  Scallion laughed. “Are you trying to convince me that I have not captured the famous Morgan girl? Do you think a simple ploy will save her?”

  “That’s her?” I said, slowly placing my hands on my hips, gazing in Tammy’s direction. “I thought she’d be thinner.”

  Tammy burst into an unintelligible tantrum.

  I turned back to Scallion. What was it about him…? There was something so familiar. The way he held his head cocked arrogantly to one side? “I’ve heard the tales. But sorry, I don’t see it. I must say, she’s a bit of a disappointment.”

  “How so?” Scallion said, seeming to enjoy my game.

  “Well,” I said, “she sits over there, bound and defeated, while I stand here, untouched. No, I’m not convinced. She couldn’t possibly be who you say she is.”

  Scallion crossed his arms. “And why not?”

  “The Morgan girl is the only Psi Fighter ever to escape the great and powerful Nicolaitan. Yet, here is this one, captured by simple flunkies. Scallion, I’m pretty sure you’ve been duped. I’d ask for my money back.”

  Scallion’s gauntleted fists tightened. I had hit a nerve. So I pushed it further.

  “For all you know, I could be the Morgan girl,” I said. Then, pointing to Drake, “Or him.”

  “Forgive my disbelief,” Scallion said, “but he is male.”

  “You are just the perceptive one, aren’t you?” I said. “But back to your victim. I’m certain you have evidence, otherwise you wouldn’t have brought this helpless girl here…? When we last met, you told me a Knight named Phobos was well-entrenched at the high school. Tell me, did he bring her to you?”

  “He did,” Scallion said. “But I never gave you that name.”

  “You did tell me you are Nicolaitan’s Number Two. It seems to me he’s treating you that way now. Why would he send a child to bring you the most important bit of information in your evil career?”

  “Because the child he sent is especially sensitive,” a voice said from inside the Proletariat. Their ranks opened, and a Knight walked out from among them. His mask had the face of a young boy, but the jaws and
mane of a lion.

  “Master Phobos,” I said quietly. “How pleasant to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Phobos said, bowing.

  Something about Phobos was familiar, too. His movements, his posture, the way he held his head—whoever was behind that mask was doing a lousy job of hiding his alter ego’s normal habits.

  “Dibs.” Drake’s voice came across the com.

  “Stand down,” I told him. “Follow my lead. You can have him when it’s time.”

  “I, too, have heard much about you,” Phobos said. “My master has taken a liking to you.”

  “He’s a charmer,” I said lazily, stretching as though I were yawning. “We had a nice little chat. He told me that someone has been disgracing the Walpurgis Knights’ good name by turning your army into a pile of petty thieves. A rogue Psi Fighter, he said. I asked him why not a rogue Knight. He never answered.”

  Phobos turned his gaze on Scallion but said nothing.

  “Tell me,” I continued, pretty sure I had their attention after that crack. “How do you know that wretched thing is the Morgan girl?”

  “As Phobos explained,” Scallion said, “he is extremely sensitive. He knows by her actions. He knows by the inflection of her voice and by the subtle nuances of her body language.”

  Tammy struggled against her bonds and rolled off the wood pile, still screaming incoherently.

  “She is subtle,” I said. “Still, I would want something more than the word of a sensitive boy. Mr. Scallion, perhaps I can help. You once told me I am not as all-knowing as I believe. But I believe what I know may be true.”

  “Enlighten us,” Phobos said. “Let’s see what you think you know that we don’t.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I think you know everything I know. For example, you know that you murdered two people but let a third live. Dr. Benjamin Captious died at the sniff of a poisoned rose. Arthur Rubric died at the suggestion of an injection of Psychedone 10. And Dr. Martin Miliron escaped death only because I was there. Or maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe he escaped death because the riddle you warned us with was meant to accomplish something entirely different?”

 

‹ Prev