“What did you do to her?,” I ask.
“Shot her in the head,” Jenna answers. “A normal bullet may not kill a vamp, but it will slow them down.”
“What happened when you and Alyssa disappeared?,” Rachel asks.
“We took on a pack of demons on our own,” I say proudly.
“Greater demons,” Emma corrects. “Lesser demons can’t take on their true forms here on Earth.”
I shrug, and take a seat on the couch, still shivering for some reason. Jenna notices, and hands me her hoodie, which I gladly wrap around myself. She must have been sweltering in it; the interior is lined with a thin layer of cotton, but the outside is made of something resembling leather. I’m not sure if the material is authentic or not, but I appreciate the gesture. “Is this some special hunter hoodie?,” I ask.
“Sort of. It makes as little noise as possible, while being easy to clean and hard to cut through.”
“Neat.” I lean back on the couch, and ask, “What happens now?”
“Nothing. We go our separate ways… preferably before my parents get back. They don’t know about this whole operation.”
Nick frowns, and asks, “When do we get to see Eve?”
“Come back tomorrow night,” Jenna responds. “She should be alert by then.”
“Alright, we’ll be back then,” Nick says as he stands.
“We?” I grab onto the hand Nick offers to help me up. “I didn’t realize I was invited.”
“Of course you are. You were the one who thought to ask for Jenna’s help. And besides, it’s not like I could stop you from coming anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” I offer Jenna her hoodie back, but she tells me to keep it. If it’s part of her special hunter attire, she must have several more where this one came from. Nick and I say our goodbyes to the rest of the group, and then take our leave, his sweaty palm pressed against the demonic grime on mine.
The subway ride back to Manhattan is spent mostly in a companionable silence. Nick plays with my hair while I lay my head on his shoulder, and we watch the lights of the stations as we fly by on an express train. Some time before we transfer to the train that will take us closest to his place, Nick wonders out loud, “When did this become our lives?”
“What do you mean?”
“Fighting monsters, taking prisoners, getting shot at, running both from and towards danger… all of this.”
“I don’t know… I just sort of went with it.”
Nick huffs, and lays his head back on the wall behind him. “My life was peaceful before I met you.
I rib him in the stomach, and ask, “Are you complaining?”
“Just the opposite. I think a little adventure is exactly what I needed.”
Several silent minutes later, we’re walking above ground, the sky significantly clearer than it had been before I caused the downpour over the Lower East Side. The walk to the condo is a brief one, and we have a few more moments of silence as we wait for, and step onto, the elevator. Nick wraps his arms around me, and I let him, burying my face in his chest in the process of returning the gesture. I’m not tired, not exactly. Just weary. And it’s nice to have him here, and on my side.
The lights aren’t on when we arrive at the condo, but I hear voices coming from the living room. When we step in to investigate, there’s no one around. The voices I heard were just the flat screen against the wall, left on a news channel. I’m about to follow Nick to his room, when the story being displayed catches my attention. A reporter wearing an inappropriately cheery expression states, “Several eyewitnesses claim to have seen the vehicle in question spontaneously combust, but some claim to have seen a young woman at the scene. Our on-site correspondent met with one of the residents whose apartment overlooks the street, who had this to say:”
The image on the screen transitions to one of a middle aged woman with rollers in her hair. “It was insane,” she tells the camera. “There were cars flipping through the air, and an explosion, and this girl running around, and then everything went black again. And then this girl had sprouted wings, and a thunderstorm started out of nowhere. It was like the apocalypse had started, or something.”
As the scene transitions back to the newsroom, the reporter concludes, “Other eyewitnesses claim to have heard strange, unexplained noises throughout the evening, accompanied by screams of human origin. It is not yet known what caused the phenomenon in Lower Manhattan tonight, but for the believers, it may be easy to conclude that metahumans were involved.”
The screen fades to black unexpectedly, and as I look around for whoever turned off the TV, the lights in the room all come on as one. Krystal stands expectantly in the corner, wearing an expression more grim than any I’ve ever seen cross her face. Judging by the state of the condo when I walked in, she knows exactly what happened tonight. And she isn’t happy.
I start to explain, but Krystal cuts me off, asking, “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” I reply. “There were demons on our trail, and we had to act.”
“So you decided to pull out all the stops in a civilian area? Where anyone could have seen you?”
“They’re not like anyone else I’ve had to fight! I always pull my punches when it comes to other spellcasters, but with demons it’s a different-“
“I don’t care!” Krystal folds her arms across her chest, and even though the top of her head only reaches my nose, she manages to make it feel like she’s looking down on me. “Every time you get into a fight, every second you spend on screen, every human eyewitness brings all of us closer to being exposed. Do you really think the world is ready for the truth?”
“Not at all, but-“
“Do you want hunters breathing down your neck constantly, making sure you’re not causing any more trouble?”
“How long have you known about-“
“Do you really think, even for a second, that the government will continue covering for us if we slip up like we did last year?”
I stare open-mouthed at Krystal as I fight to process what she just said. Only two people in my life should know the extent of the government’s knowledge of metahumans. One of them is likely still at home in Queens, and the other disappeared after having me shot. Krystal shouldn’t know what she knows. In a voice barely above a whisper, I ask, “Who told you about that?”
“I’ve known for years. I have high enough clearance to know how extensive the cover-ups have gotten.”
I feel as if I have to sit down to take this news, so I sink into one of the plush white couches. “But, how?”
“Up until a couple of years ago, I dabbled in weapons development.” Krystal sits on the edge of the coffee table across from me, the anger in her voice forgotten for the moment. “Hunters needed an edge against their targets, and since I was clanless and grieving when they offered me the opportunity, I jumped on it. It kept my mind and hands occupied. The storage bracelets, the aura blades, the noiseless shoes, all those and more were my design.”
“Really?” I’m shocked, to say the least. I never would have taken Krystal for an inventor, but I suppose the need to keep herself occupied and the paycheck were all the inspiration she needed.
“Really,” she answers. “The one concept they never really took a liking to was the spell-powered gun I developed. They said those would be too expensive to put into production, and they could easily fall into the wrong hands. I kept my prototype set, though. And they still work.”
“How come I never knew that about you?,” I ask.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Heather, there’s a lot that plenty of people don’t know about me. Since losing my husband, I’ve only ever opened up to Nick, and even he knows next to nothing.”
“I’m sure you have other friends.”
“Not really… Not anymore. Just Nick and Landon. And now, you.”
“So we’ve surpassed the original student-teacher relationship, then?”
“Heather, I haven’t
been able to teach you anything in months.” Krystal smiles ruefully, and says, “I used to be of more use to you, when all you needed to learn was how to survive. Now, I just show you little tricks to give you the illusion that I’m still your superior. In truth, I’m not confident I would be able to hold my own against you if you really wanted to hurt me.”
I want to say that she’s wrong, but to be honest, I’m not sure which of us would win in a true fight, either. She has the years of experience and technique that I can’t hope to attain, but I have the brute strength that she can’t quite match. I shrug, and tell her, “I’m glad we’re on the same side. You might not think you can take me, but I’m still scared of you.”
“Good.” Krystal yawns, and slips her hands into the pockets of her turquoise bathrobe. “I’m heading off to bed. Before I do though, I need you to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Please, please, do not do anything stupid in public again. The last thing we need is to be found out, or have the government stepping further into our lives.”
“I can’t make that promise, Krys. You know sometimes I won’t have a choice.”
“Fine. Then at least if you’re going to do something stupid, make sure no one can see your face.” Krystal ruffles the hair on the very top of my head, then heads off to her room, leaving me alone to ponder the logistics of the idea that just sprung into being from her words.
19
My mind is still firmly wrapped around my new idea when I fall asleep in Nick’s arms, and even more so when I wake up to the sun shining through his bedroom window. It’s going to take some effort, and I’ll have to buy, steal, and alter a few things to make it work, but I don’t see any reason not to follow through with the plans I’ve drawn up. The only tricky part will be hiding what I’m doing from everyone. I carefully wriggle out of Nick’s arms once I have a concrete plan for the day, fix myself until I’m presentable enough to be seen outside, and search for a loose piece of paper. I write him a note explaining that I have some errands to run, and that he can pick me up later at my place. Once that’s done, I place the note on his bedside table, kiss him lightly on the forehead, and take my leave.
It’s early enough that there won’t be many stores open anyway, so I just head home to shower and put on fresh clothes. My makeup had been mostly washed off by the downpour last night, but I watch as the last of it swirls down the drain, and when I look in the mirror afterwards, I look like me again. It’s more than my face that changed last night, though. I feel different, somehow. More determined, more driven. I’ve never pushed my power to its limit, so I have no idea what I’m truly capable of. What happened last night was just the tip of the iceberg; I can do so much more. And if my idea pans out, I’ll be able to do so guilt-free.
It’s nearly noon by the time I’m dressed and ready to head out the door. I grab a book to read on the train ride downtown, and lose myself in its pages between my apartment and my destination. The more I can distract myself, the better; I’d rather not think too hard about what Nick and I are off to do tonight. I still don’t know if he plans to kill Eve, or spare her life. I don’t know what his intentions are at all. Tonight could be the night that I watch my boyfriend become a murderer. And I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.
My first stop at the Halloween store near St. Mark’s Square turns up fruitless; the place may be enormous, but they don’t have exactly what I’m looking for. The thrift shop I try next, however, has one of the things I need. When I leave, I’m weighed down by an impressively cheap pair of black Doc Martens that have been well loved, but well taken care of. It took a while to find these gems, though, so the sun is a bit lower in the sky and my stomach is grumbling in protest at being empty all day. I make a quick stop at a nearby burger place for a late lunch, and then make my way home.
The ride home feels significantly shorter than the ride downtown. Before very long, I’m walking through the lobby of my building, and waiting for the elevator. When I step off on my floor, I spot Nick standing by my poor, poised to knock. For some reason, the sight of him puts me into panic mode. I’m carrying something completely innocuous, but all the same, I don’t want him seeing what I bought. I teleport myself into my room just as he knocks, stash the shoes in the back of my closet, and run to answer the door.
Nick grins at me as soon as the door opens. “Hey, you,” I say with a smile of my own. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Jenna called. Our friend is awake.”
“When did you two exchange numbers?”
“We didn’t, she pulled up my old files.”
I step outside the apartment, and close the door behind me. “Alright, shall we go then?”
Nick nods, and squeezes his eyes shut as he grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”
The hallway around us dissolves as my spell takes effect, and instantaneously, we’re transported to Jenna’s living room. I expect to see Jenna waiting for us by the basement door or something, but she’s nowhere to be found. Instead, I spot her dad watching the afternoon news from the couch, not even registering the fact that two people have suddenly appeared in his field of vision. “Jenna said we should be expecting company,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”
I step a little further in front of Nick, and mutter, “Is now a bad time?”
“Relax, you two are safe here. Jen’s upstairs, waiting for you.”
“Alright, thanks.” I keep my eyes trained on Mr. Chen for as long as I can while Nick and I walk to the stairs. He still seems like the same likeable, practical, responsible man I’ve always known him to be. Maybe I’m just a little wary because he’s got the same skillset as Jenna, and is unrestrained by emotional bonds to her metahuman friends.
There’s also the fact that his fingers keep straying to the golden bangle on his wrist, but I try not to think about that too much.
When we find Jenna in her room, she’s zipping up a black hoodie identical to the one she handed me last night, made of the same thin-but-sturdy material. In fact, she’s in all black from head to toe. “Hey guys,” she mutters as we enter. “Sorry about my dad, I probably should have warned you he’d be here.”
“It’s fine, I just hope he doesn’t shoot us,” Nick says. He’s smiling, but I get the feeling he’s just as worried about the prospect as I am.
“He won’t,” Jenna assures us. “He lives by a code of attacking only when the enemy strikes first, unless he’s on duty.”
“Great.” I let go of Nick’s hand, noticing that I’d been gripping it tightly ever since our arrival. “Where are we off to?”
“A warehouse in Red Hook. It’s where my parents take people to interrogate them.”
I frown at Jenna, and ask, “Where is that?”
“Don’t worry about that part.” Jenna checks her watch, and says, “We should head downstairs. Our ride will be here any minute.”
Nick and I watch as Jenna pulls on her boots, and walks soundlessly over to her desk, where she takes one of the gold storage bangles arranged along the edge and slides it over her wrist. She then pulls up her hood, and motions for us to follow her, which Nick does automatically. Once neither of them is looking, I extend a hand towards Jenna’s desk, and one of the bangles flies into my hand at the slightest provocation. I slip it into my pocket, and take off at a brisk walk to catch up to the others.
Jenna leads us right past her father, down into the basement. We walk past the rows upon rows of weaponry, and she pushes aside a rack of black clothing to reveal a hidden door. She punches a sequence of numbers into the keypad under the knob, then pushes the door open to reveal a corridor wide enough for six or seven people to comfortably stand side by side. We watch as a sleek black Audi backs into the corridor, and flashes its lights as a signal for us to get in. I cock an eyebrow at Jenna, and she just shrugs. “We’ve made a lot of renovations,” is all she’ll say on the subject.
Nick and I sit in the back, while Jenna rolls up the partition to give the driver specific instructions. We can barely see out of the heavily tinted windows, but I feel the pull of the car as it starts crawling along the cement passageway, even more so when we start driving up an incline. After about five minutes, our progress is blocked by a metal grate. A faint buzzing sound seems to emanate from the car itself, and the gate slowly rises to reveal where the tunnel lets out; the seemingly abandoned lower level of a Sears parking lot. We travel up the ramps to street level, then join the afternoon traffic as it winds its way towards the highway, breaking away to turn down side streets and follow them to our destination in Brooklyn.
The sun’s just about to dip below the Manhattan skyline by the time we come to a full stop by the docks in Red Hook. Orange light bounces off the surface of the water, shimmering as gentle waves relentlessly rock the shore. I glance at the Statue of Liberty, standing solid and stoic as ever, before hopping out of the car and following Jenna down the pier to a warehouse marked 7- CONDEMNED. She removes the padlock with a key she brought along, and ushers Nick and I inside quickly, slamming the door shut behind us.
Emma stands waiting inside, still wearing the same dark attire from last night. She looks exhausted, and her hair is looking a little out of place, but she smiles brightly at our arrival. “Finally,” she says, “I hate being on guard duty.”
“Nobody asked you to watch her,” Jenna replies.
“She turned my brother into a bloodsucker. I needed to be here.”
We follow Emma past dozens of filthy, rusting metal shelves, until we reach a cleared space in the center of the warehouse. Here, a lone chair stands under a flickering lightbulb, occupied by one Evelyn Brenner. She’s still in the outfit she wore to the concert, a blood red pencil skirt that’s been torn, probably during the chase that landed her here. Her hair’s been likewise mistreated, tousled around to the point where I’m not sure what style it was originally supposed to be. Her makeup remains mostly untouched, other than where black blood has dripped down from the scabbed over exit wound on her forehead. She glares at us as we approach, and asks, “What the fuck do you people want from me?”
Shattered (the Spellbound Series Book 2) Page 14