Night Legions

by Jeremy Flagg

  Instead of jumping down from the back of the truck, Ariel hovered, holding the attention of every Paladin.

  “Welcome home, Ariel,” he said.

  “Jonah,” Ariel replied.

  Shit.

  * * * * *

  “I have more inhibitors.” Jean-Luc Baptiste, the future Prime Minister of Canada, gestured to a suitcase held by his assistant. The woman opened the case as if her move was rehearsed, displaying a series of small, thin rectangles. Needles took one of the devices, only slightly larger than a postage stamp.

  “Thank you,” he said with apparent sincerity. “Soo Jung, get these to everybody as quickly as possible. The brothers are a priority, we may need them.”

  “I fear you will need them soon,” said Jean-Luc.

  The inhibitors make it more difficult for a telepath to intrude. They’re not perfect, but they should provide the humans the same level of resistance as you. They'll keep Jacob at bay.

  Ivan, Dwayne projected. Jacob is gone. All that matters is stopping the man behind the curtain.

  Several people lingered between the synthetics. Dwayne recognized their faces from a time long ago. Each of them Children, one-time occupants of Boston before they decided to search for a better life. A healer, a man capable of photosynthesis, and a middle-aged man bestowed with the nose of a blood hound. None of them had active abilities that made them useful in a fight, but they had once been family.

  The healer caught his eye. She looked exhausted, the bags under her eyes obvious even at a distance. With the slight nod, their paths connected once more. Dwayne had tried not to be bitter when they left, a trio determined to find a better life in the great north. He wanted to apologize, wanted to tell them they were needed, but simply by being there, she stepped back into a war he wasn’t sure they’d win.

  You’ve been taking in refugees.

  Is that a question or a statement? Jean-Luc asked.

  “We have nearly a hundred reprogrammed synthetics. Getting them over the border proved costly, more money than either of us has to spare. Only a half dozen Children volunteered to enter with us,” Jean-Luc said.

  It will not be enough, mon ami. These Children are not fighters. They fled your country to seek asylum. Now they return to fight your war.

  My war? Dwayne nearly coughed. It must have slipped his mind—did he coddle a maniac, give him the keys to the kingdom, and roll over when he tried to steal more power? Jean-Luc had an air about him, not the apologetic shy man portrayed by Canadians in mainstream culture. No, this man had a bit of arrogance.

  I can hear you.

  Good. Dwayne’s eyes narrowed as he stared at him. Why did the next Prime Minister of Canada care about their outcome? Were Americans such a shameful lot that their northern neighbors needed to step in and supervise or did he truly fear Ivan’s threat? Did the man have an agenda? Dwayne wanted to interrogate him to find out his intentions.

  Or you could ask.

  “Why are you here?” Dwayne asked aloud. He wanted everybody to hear the reasoning.

  “Canada is one of the most advanced countries on the planet. We have the United States walling off its borders to thank for this. The refugees—” he eyed the Children behind him before turning back. “The Children who have sought asylum, they’re productive members of our society. We prosper because of them.”

  This parasite, the one who has sunk its teeth into your president, it wants more.

  “What do you gain?”

  “Peace of mind? Good will? Political respect when I claim to have helped overthrow a corrupt government?”

  L’obscurité. The darkness, it’s coming for us all, just like it did for Vanessa.

  “So, you will fight with us?” Dwayne asked.

  Jean-Luc shook his head. “I have done all I can. I am not a telepath of note. I would be nothing more than a nuisance. Besides…” He turned his gaze to the floor. “If you fail, Canada will be next. I can only protect her if I lead her.”

  I speak the truth.

  I know.

  Jean-Luc raised his eyebrow. He was future Prime Minister of the only government more technologically advanced than Genesis Division. If they lost this war, if they didn’t make it out alive, America would need allies. Canada might have given up on their pursuit of artificial intelligence, but the inhibitors were a prime example of what they could achieve. No, he didn’t like the Prime Minister, but he understood the tough decision of a leader.

  The Prime Minister’s face showed a moment of shock. “The Preacher, he’s returned. Something is wrong, horribly wrong. We must find him.”

  Silently, he added to Dwayne, Conthan needs you.

  “This war needs me,” Dwayne said aloud. It took a moment for him to realize everybody within earshot stared. None of them said anything, instead eyeing the Prime Minister, aware of his abilities. After years of speaking one conversation aloud with Vanessa and another in a mental dialogue, he shouldn’t be surprised at their curious raised brows.

  “Preacher has returned,” Jean-Luc said nonchalantly, skipping over how he might know. “Needles, should we be begin discussing strategy?” He fished in a pocket of his jacket. A clear piece of plastic emerged, no bigger than his thumb, the top half of it blinking with blue light. “I brought all the intel we have.”

  Needles tried to slowly reach out. His arm shook with eagerness as he yanked the device free. Dwayne wondered if it held intelligence Needles had yet to obtain or if the hacker simply had a penchant for information. Either way, his demeanor changed into that of a geek with his toys as he scurried toward a table holding a computer.

  This war will happen with or without you.

  Dwayne let out a low growl, loud enough that Skits, who had been approaching him, stopped in her tracks. The Prime Minister, a man who magically showed up in a secret hideout in his finely tailored suit, knew nothing about war. He provided intel, but he didn’t know war. Dwayne imagined the man reading election statistics and kissing babies, not leading an army.

  Touché.

  Dwayne began to see why Jasmine loathed telepaths.

  Go sit in your office while I win this war, Dwayne told him, anger seeping into his thoughts.

  “Muscle wins a battle,” Jean-Luc said aloud, “but heart wins a war.”

  Amour. Go make sure your heart is alive. Needles can bring me up to speed. We’ll wait to make decisions until you return, mon ami.

  Dwayne’s arrogance washed away in a few simple words. Conthan, his motivation for fighting, needed him. Dwayne needed Conthan. The darkness, it licked at his thoughts, the anger, the despair, the determination to fight all symptoms. Reality set in: Conthan needed him. The desire to hold the man grew until Dwayne felt anxiety not to have him nearby.

  Jean-Luc gave a slight smile. Never forget why we fight.

  Dwayne nodded. He fought for the man Michael believed he could be. He fought for the man Conthan knew him to be. He fought for those he loved. Jean-Luc gestured down a narrow hallway. He might be a soldier in this war, but after he was long dead, ashes scattered, he needed to know his life mattered. The Nostradamus Effect thrust him into this position, but it was protecting those he cared about that drove him.

  Right now, his heart needed its mate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  1996

  “Can we talk about the elephant in the room?” asked Arturo.

  Since they arrived in Mark’s quarters, everybody had avoided the subject at all costs. Ariel sat at the table, next to Arturo and across from Mark. She fixated on the steak on her plate, refusing to look up for fear of being greeted with disapproving eyes.

  “What?” asked Elizabeth. “Ariel giving that asshole what he deserved? What more is there to say?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Mark said.

  Ivan leaned in, resting his chin on clasped hands. “If the military pulls out, there is certainly a chance we’ll be shut down.”

  “They won’t pull out,” Elizabeth said. �
��They need you guys more than the other way around.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Mark said.

  Ariel rubbed her eyes, fending off a growing headache. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ivan staring. “I’m not sorry it happened. Man is crazy.”

  Elizabeth handed Ivan the mashed potatoes. “I’m sure he had it coming to him.”

  “I’m certain he did,” Ivan said. “But men with armies and fragile egos are a dangerous thing. I spent all afternoon on the phone with the president, assuring her this was nothing more than a misunderstanding.”

  “The president?” asked Arturo.

  “It’s a strained relationship at best. She isn’t exactly a fan of our work, or what the military is doing. I’m sure she’ll be moving us to the top of her agenda in the coming weeks.”

  “Shit,” Arturo whispered.

  “Watch your mouth,” Elizabeth said, glancing at Raymond.

  “Oh shi—I mean, whoops.”

  Elizabeth took a bottle of wine and poured another glass for Ivan. The action wouldn’t have been odd, but after all Ariel heard about Elizabeth’s hatred of the man, she seemed oddly attentive. The two of them clanked glasses as if they were the best of friends. Ariel caught Elizabeth’s subtle touch on Ivan’s forearm.

  “Mark, do you have some Tylenol? Have the headache from—” Arturo caught himself. “Headache from heck.”

  “There’s some in the bathroom medicine cabinet,” Mark replied.

  “Here, I’ll show you,” Ariel said. Placing the decorative napkin on the table, she walked with Arturo from the dining room down the hall leading to Mark’s bedroom. She shoved Arturo into the bathroom, putting her hand over his mouth.

  She effortlessly pushed him back against the wall. “The headaches. They’re not normal. It happened when Franklin tried to get in my head.”

  Arturo lowered her hand. “He’s here?” he whispered.

  “Remember he said something was happening? Now Elizabeth is making googly eyes at Ivan. Something is wrong.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  “He’s a telepath,” Ariel whispered.

  Arturo took a bottle of Tylenol off the counter and gave the bottle a light shake. His eyes showed him processing the information, darting back and forth as if he were reading a page in a book. “What do we do?”

  “He can control people,” Ariel said. “I think we’re immune to it. But Mark and Elizabeth? What about Jonah?”

  Jonah. Outside of this house, he was the only person she cared for. Was he affected? Had he been acting weird lately? She thought back to the moment when she opened her bedroom door for him. Was the shy man she bedded Jonah, or did a telepath have something to do with their tryst?

  Normally she would turn to Mark for questions like this. But she had to wonder if her mentor was consumed by the darkness.

  “Penelope,” she muttered.

  “What about—”

  “They kept her drugged. She was killed when Goddard attacked Ivan. What if…” Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes.

  “Ariel, Arturo,” Ivan said loudly from the dining room. “I believe we need to talk.”

  Arturo grabbed her hand. He squeezed it tightly. “We leave together.” It was the same phrase she told him when they fought about leaving the Facility. She gave him a slight nod.

  “Together,” she whispered.

  When they returned to the dining room, Ivan stood at the end of the table. The lanky man appeared even taller with Mark and Elizabeth seated around him. His calm demeanor bordered on terrifying with the information they knew.

  “I guess I did get careless.” The scientist ran his fingers through Elizabeth’s hair. She hardly moved at the gesture, instead staring straight ahead as if she were in a trance. “But can you blame me?”

  “You’re a telepath,” Ariel muttered.

  “Aren’t you a perceptive girl. Did you figure that out on your own? Or did Franklin help you?”

  “What do you want?” asked Arturo.

  Ivan moved from behind the table, carefully pushing in his chair. He lifted his full wineglass and took a long sip. His eyes never broke contact. Ariel was reminded of the man she first met years ago, creepy, arrogant, and overall, a pain in her ass. For years, he had worked to endear himself, gaining her confidence one day at a time.

  “Daddy?” Raymond reached out, touching his father’s hand. He grew agitated when his father didn’t react and comfort him.

  Ariel placed her hands on the boy’s shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. “Your dad is going to be okay,” she reassured him.

  “The story is more tragic than amusing, but I came here to study you. I have never lied about wanting to research the awesome abilities at our disposal. I may not have been truthful about my origins, but it seems each of us has a tragic backstory.”

  “You can’t control us,” said Ariel.

  “No,” he said. “Imagine my surprise. I’m able to hear the thought of every human, touch their minds, manipulate them, and then I meet a single girl who can resist me.”

  “I’ll kill you.” Ariel hoped her voice sounded braver than she felt. The day before, she had threatened the entire force of the military, but in front of this man, she felt herself shrinking, turning into the naive girl who first came to the Facility.

  “I don’t need to hear your thoughts to know you don’t have it in you. I can taste your fear.” A sickening smile spread across his face. “Just like Penelope’s.”

  The air grew heated with Arturo’s anger. At any moment the entire room could be engulfed in flame. Ariel didn’t dare touch him, fearful he might lash out in his turmoil.

  Mark and Elizabeth stood in unison, speaking in the same bland tone. “If you kill me, you kill us all.”

  “Dad? Mom?”

  Ariel held Raymond in place as he struggled to grab his dad’s hand. He seemed unaffected by the telepath, at least directly, free of his control. She wondered if Ivan just didn’t see the boy as useful, or if he might indeed be a mentalist. Either way, no matter the outcome, she wouldn’t let the bastard harm Mark and Elizabeth’s son.

  Arturo’s arm flickered as the heat along his skin reached a temperature to start flames. After countless sessions working with the pyro’s powers, she understood he’d thrust the flame from his right hand, slamming into Ivan. Simultaneously, fires would spring to life about the room and he’d be able to defend them at every angle. Except, in these close quarters, it was just as likely that Arturo would kill them.

  “You seem to question my dedication to this charade.” Ivan’s shoulders relaxed. The twisted smile permanently resting on his face left him looking demented. Despite being in the room with two of the most powerful individuals on the planet, he didn’t seem bothered. Ariel was certain there was more at play than she currently grasped.

  Mark took the knife from the table and rested it against Elizabeth’s neck. The action lacked emotion, motive, even finesse. Instead, he appeared to be going through the motions as if in a well-rehearsed scene.

  “Dad!”

  Mark’s eyes focused, the life returning to his face. His brow quivered, and his arm shook as he held the knife against his wife’s throat. Tears ran down his cheeks as his lips trembled, trying to muster words.

  “No,” he finally stammered. “No. No. No.”

  Ivan’s smile spread. “Mark was never entirely gone. The man, he has a stubborn nature. He’s fought me every day since I made him kill Goddard. At first, I found it…” He rested a finger on his lip, dragging out the moment as he searched for the right word. “I found it problematic. But imagine the exhilaration when he admitted defeat, and found himself consumed?”

  “The darkness,” Ariel whispered.

  “Please,” Mark begged. “Let them go.” Ariel had seen the man as a father, a role model, her rock for when things got bad. A tightness gripped her chest as Mark started sobbing, snot running down his face as his hand held the blade steady at
his wife’s throat.

  “I would much rather kill you and take her for myself, but you’re much—”

  The fire from Arturo’s arm flooded the table. Ariel shielded Raymond’s eyes as flame exploded forward, slamming into Ivan. Moving fire with her mind had never been easy. Now, heat danced along an invisible barrier inches away from the Davis family. Sweat poured down her face from the dangerous temperatures.

  “Arturo,” she yelled, “Stop it!”

  Smoke burned her nostrils; try as she might, she didn’t have the skill to push away the air. Bright orbs danced in her vision as she made sense of the destruction caused by Arturo’s attack. Paneling and the table hissed while Arturo forced the flame to descend into nothingness.

  Ariel lifted Raymond into the air and clung to him. “Don’t let go of me, do you understand?” The boy broke into tears. He had no idea what was happening. She wanted to assure him it would be okay, but first, she had to be sure she wasn’t lying.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “I think so? He’s pretty crispy on one side,” Arturo said, inspecting where Ivan had slumped to the floor at the far end of the table.

  “Mark?”

  The man’s face shimmered a bright red, scalded from the intensity of Arturo’s outburst. A grin spread along it, a twisted smile stretching from ear to ear. Ariel followed his arm, still wielding the knife. She screamed as she made sense of the scarlet line along Elizabeth’s neck. Blood poured from the wound.

  Mark turned. “We’re coming for you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  2033

  “Soldier,” Twenty-Seven barked, “stop pacing.”

  Sims froze. The small hallway between the gate waiting area and the VIP lounge wasn’t more than fifteen feet across. For the last twenty minutes, he had paced. Back, forth. To one side, then a slow turn, then another fifteen feet. Repeat. The man’s nervous energy drifted off him like bad body odor.