Paranormals | Book 3 | Darkness Reigns

by Andrews, Christopher

Then he registered how long Mark was taking to answer the question.

  Oh, no.

  “Park’s dead,” Mark told him, his voice heavy with guilt. “The Skygger killed him. Right behind my back. Literally.”

  Michael asked, “What happened?” Because he didn’t know what else to say.

  As Mark laid out the details, Michael found himself spiraling downward into a deep, heavy depression. His one chance to have this nightmare erased like clicking the Undo button was gone. Park was, to the best of his knowledge, one of the rare paranormals whose ability had not been mimicked elsewhere. Setting aside his destroyed face, he would remain blind — he could not imagine such catastrophic damage could be fixed through conventional surgery; he had never heard of someone having their eyes “smeared” into nihility before. And had he ever really been self-conscious of the scars on his hands? He could only imagine what his face was going to look like after this.

  When enough time slipped by that Michael realized Mark was done, he scrounged around his brain until he came up with a lame, “Good. Sounds good.”

  Mark paused again. “Mike ... I’m really—”

  Michael shook his head. “Don’t say you’re sorry, okay? It’s not your fault.”

  “If I’d just—”

  “Mark. I’m serious. I wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you. That’s two I owe you, big time.”

  He heard Mark squirming around in his chair. “Maybe one and a half.”

  If Mark hadn’t sounded so damned serious when he said it, it probably wouldn’t have struck Michael so funny. He laughed — as best he could — and it was the first time anything had made him laugh since his world fell dark and oppressive.

  It felt good. At least by comparison.

  When he wound down, with Mark’s own chuckle trailing off at the same time, he felt Mark take his hand. “We’re gonna get you fixed up, Mike. I promise you.”

  Michael grunted. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mark, but unless you’ve picked up another paranormal superpower I don’t know about...”

  “I’m not kiddin’, Mike. And I’m not just talkin’ outta my ass, either. We’re gonna do something. Between the PCA’s assets and Walker and his Highness’ people ... we don’t live in the old world. Things happen, miracles happen, on a regular basis. And if all those things, all those people on our side can’t do it ... well, somewhere out there is another paranormal with abilities at least similar to Park’s. Somewhere. And if not today, then maybe tomorrow. More people go paranormal every day, remember?”

  “Not like they used to.”

  “Yeah, it’s slowin’ down, but it ain’t stopped. Accordin’ to the Taalu, it may never stop.”

  He squeezed Michael’s hand again.

  “Mike, we’re gonna fix this. If I have to, I will turn this whole goddamn world upside down.”

  THE GLADIUS, SHOCKWAVE, AND SHINING STAR

  “So that’s where we’re at,” Shockwave said, his arms folded as he slumped against the hospital wall. “Mike’s gonna need so much plastic surgery. And the creepy asswipe monster who killed the one dude that coulda fixed ‘im got away.” The man stared down at the floor, glowering at it, as though it were somehow to blame for the Skygger’s escape.

  John, Shockwave, and Shining Star stood outside Steve’s hospital room. Once Shockwave returned, hours later, from his excursion to apprehend Doctor Park, he had trudged up to them with obvious reluctance and relayed what had transpired.

  John considered everything Shockwave had shared, folded his own arms, and declared, “I actually find your encounter with the Skygger a bit encouraging.”

  “ ‘Encouraging’?” Shockwave repeated in disbelief.

  Shining Star took it more in stride. “How so?”

  To Shockwave, John said, “When you switched tactics and fired the larger shockwave from your torso, you managed to strike the Skygger after all. Correct?”

  Shockwave nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I hit the son of a bitch hard enough to spin it out of control.”

  “And it seemed stunned, if only for a second?”

  “Yeah.”

  John nodded. “The Skygger’s exact powers have always been elusive. I’ve fought it twice before, along with some companions. Between that, and the descriptions of each of your own experiences with it ... offensively, it seems less about what it can do, and more about its being able to circumvent what others can do.”

  Shining Star said, “Explain, please.”

  “You were all surprised to learn that the Skygger struck Powerhouse hard enough to leave him concussed. Yet, as I understand it, that same blow did not send him tumbling through the air.”

  “Mike mentioned something about that, too,” Shockwave commented. “After we ... worked some stuff out, but before we went off to see Park. Lincoln’s as tough as they come, with muscle to match. So if he got conked on the head hard enough to knock his brain around ...”

  Shining Star picked up the thread. “... then the sheer force of it should have also slammed him forward, with considerable momentum. Instead of just ‘thumping him on the back of the head,’ as he puts it.”

  Shockwave mulled over that for a second, then shook his head. “Not necessarily. There was this one time, really early on, when we were all gettin’ to know each other. Lincoln fought this rogue who could turn into a bear — a huge, super-strong bear. They went at each other pretty hard; Vortex told me they were hittin’ each other so hard, their punches sounded like gunshots. But nobody went ‘tumbling through the air.’ And don’t get me started on that big fight with the Noctoponm ...”

  Shining Star appeared about to accept this counterpoint, but then shook his own head. “But in the fight you describe, I am assuming that Lincoln was prepared for the fight, leaning into his bear-like opponent?”

  “Well, I wasn’t there, personally, but I’d assume so, yeah.”

  “Just like when he fought the pachyderm member of the Noctoponm?”

  “If you mean the one that looked like an ugly-ass walrus, then yeah.”

  John had witnessed none of these events, but Shining Star had clearly noted the same distinction he had. “It is one thing to be ready for a great blow, especially for one with the raw strength you describe in Powerhouse. It is another to be taken by surprise.”

  Shockwave cocked his head one way, then the other. “I guess,” he said in a tone that suggested he was not fully convinced yet.

  “And my theory goes beyond what was done to Powerhouse,” John continued. “One of my companions, Akribos, managed to hit the Skygger during our first encounter. Akribos was very large and very strong — not as strong as your Powerhouse, as you’ve described him, but stronger than any non-paranormal man. The Skygger, as you’ve seen, is quite rangy; however mighty it is or isn’t, I doubt that it weighs much more than seventy—” He almost said “litrals,” a Ralalis unit of weight unit. “... probably not a great deal more than a large dog. The blow from Akribos should have sent it sprawling, yet it didn’t.”

  John paused a moment, remembering the blue giant with fondness in his heart.

  “Akribos once described the experience ‘as though something had sapped his strength.’ We have seen nothing to indicate that the Skygger literally drains its prey’s physical vigor, which suggests to me that perhaps the Skygger is not so much a power-leech, but a power-neutralizer of some sort. My own abilities certainly reflect something like that: They sometimes work on it, but not nearly as well as they should.”

  “This,” Shining Star said as he raised his hand as though to inspect his palm, “could explain its effect on light. Especially my light.” His palm erupted into a silvery glow bright enough to make John squint. “I was able to generate my light within its apparent field of effect, but it was not as vibrant as I commanded. It was as though my light were being swallowed up.”

  John nodded, recalling its effect on Venubis’ arrows.

  “So ...” Shockwave said, “... it is like a leech, then? Feeding
off us, off our powers?”

  John shook his head and restated, “I have not witnessed it getting measurably stronger, nor does it seem to require extra-normal power as food. Instead, its ‘anti-power’ — if that’s what it is — appears to create a buffer, to protect it from the force of others.”

  Shockwave grunted. “Great.”

  “No,” John reiterated, “I do find it encouraging. If I’m correct, that means the Skygger is not as unstoppable as it seems. And this would further explain why the bastard relies on wicked tricks — beyond being an obvious sadist. It wants us to feel vulnerable, to feel overwhelmed, as though there’s nothing we can possibly do to stop it.” He smiled, making sure the expression carried to his eyes. “But I managed to ensnare it once in an energy net, when I did as you did with your shockwave: Instead of aiming for center-target, I adapted, spreading my attack wide, as wide as possible. And the Skygger was held, however briefly. Just as your shockwave stunned it, if only for a moment. You hurt it, as I have done with my swords.”

  Shockwave nodded, his eyes thoughtful as he said, “ ‘If it bleeds, we can kill it’.”

  “Exactly.”

  Movement at the far end of the hall caught John’s eye. That side of the floor was filled with the constant bustle of the medical staff, but this man was dressed, not in soft blue, but in black clothing, with a splash of white at the collar; he was also carrying flowers in one hand and balloons in the other, and was speaking, with some urgency, to someone behind the nurse’s station. John considered whether he was a clergyman come to visit a patient on the other side of the building, or—

  “Energy net.”

  John looked back to Shockwave. “Excuse me?”

  “You said you caught the thing in an ‘energy net’ for a little bit.”

  “That’s right.”

  Shockwave shook his head. “Dude, when we have some time, I think you’re gonna need to write down this long list of all the paranormal powers you got from the White Flash. You’re somethin’ else.”

  John thought about the fact that his “long list of paranormal powers” actually derived magic — coupled with his long-standing theory that all paranormal powers were, ultimately, a form of magic. Aloud, he only shared, “When we have some time, sure. It’s going to be quite the conversation.”

  Shockwave snorted. “I bet.”

  Down the hall, the clergyman with the flowers and balloons was gesturing their direction, and took several steps this way while arguing with the nurse behind the desk. John hoped it was a simple matter of his wanting to return to the previous room of an admitted parishioner, resisting the news that they had been moved elsewhere, but he kept an eye on the situation while speaking with the others.

  Shining Star returned to the previous topic. “While it is encouraging to hear that the Skygger may not be the juggernaut that it seems, I am still concerned with its ability to read our minds.”

  “Shit, ain’t that the truth.”

  Shining Star continued, “While I have not, personally, encountered a mind-reading rogue, I understand that the PCA has. Would the PCA’s psi-bands guard against the Skygger’s telepathy as well?”

  “Don’t know for sure, but I doubt it.”

  John barely remembered what a “psi-band” was, other than the fact that their father’s company either invented or contributed to it. “Why doubt it?”

  “When I got back to the group last night, I was pretty pissed off at Mike — ‘cause of the bullshit the Skygger did to trick me — but I do remember that he was wearing his psi-band. Which probably means he was wearing it when the Skygger tried to trick him lookin’ like his ex, Christine. And, far as I know, Vortex always wears one under his mask, and he got tricked into seeing you.”

  Shining Star frowned. “Which suggests the psi-bands are not enough protection.”

  “Maybe we can get—” Shockwave hesitated at the last second, glancing toward John before continuing, “get the people at Davison Electronics to soup them up for this?”

  He doesn’t realize that I know Vortex is Steve, John thought. I’ll bet he was about to name someone specific at the company.

  “It certainly would not hurt to try,” Shining Star was saying. “My people could take a look at them as well, but we have not had the best luck with human-Taalu brain physiology.”

  “Sir, I’ve told you three times now, you’re not permitted down here!”

  The three turned toward the voice. A nurse, followed by a delayed orderly, was chasing after the clergyman, who was moving toward them at a respectable pace.

  “Excuse me?” the clergyman called to them. “May I please speak with you?”

  Visually, not a great deal was amiss. The circumstances, the setting, implied little more than a frustrated misunderstanding. Or, given Shining Star and Shockwave’s public profile, perhaps even a tinge of hero-worship — the clergyman had spotted the heroes, and hoped for their assistance with his just cause. But given their dealings with the Skygger, all of them tensed for a greater confrontation.

  The clergyman, not in the best shape, was panting a bit as he closed the distance between them. “Gentlemen, my name is Pastor Ron ...” He held up the flowers and balloons, suggesting further innocence.

  Shining Star glanced to John for guidance, but he was already on it. “Spoetium.”

  John focused the spell at the approaching Pastor Ron, delving into his mind—

  Darkness. Embroiling darkness.

  The man moved faster, releasing the balloons, reaching into his pants pocket ...

  John drew his swords. “Stop him,” he snapped.

  John prepared to slap the side of the man’s head with the flat of his right blade even as Shockwave’s hands rippled with kinetic energy, but it was Shining Star who settled the matter: Stepping forward to meet the rushing man, he placed a silver-gloved hand upon the pastor’s chest and, with no visible effort, shoved him into the wall.

  Pastor Ron flattened against the drywall for several seconds, too stunned to even fall. The flowers fell from one hand, clattering to the floor with far too metallic a sound, and the small pistol he had pulled from his pocket dangled from one finger of the other hand.

  The nurse stopped short at the display of violence, but the orderly hurried forward, kicking away the butcher knife hidden within the flowers and seizing the pastor’s wrist before yanking away the gun.

  “Y-you ...” Pastor Ron wheezed, “... you don’t un-understand. I ... I must. The Sk-Skygger commands ...” He finally slumped against the orderly.

  Shockwave picked up the knife and accepted the gun from the orderly, then wheeled toward the nurse. “Where the hell is Ensign Wiseman?!”

  Flustered, the nurse answered, “He ... he had to use the restroom. He said he would be right back.”

  Indeed, here came the PCA ensign now, sprinting toward them with his V9 in-hand ...

  It didn’t take long for the situation to wrap up, given how impotent the threat had proven. Shockwave laid into Wiseman, letting him know that everyone at HQ, up to and including Captain Brunn, would hear about his dropping the ball. Wiseman kept his head down through the tongue-lashing, offering no defense. And during all of this, John nudged open Steve’s room door just enough to peek inside at his sleeping brother and alert Powerhouse, making sure the entire scenario had not served as a distraction.

  When Pastor Ron was, at last, marched away, leaving the three alone once more, Shining Star said to Shockwave, “While I agree with your feelings over Ensign Wiseman’s negligence, I suspect we are partially to blame.”

  “The hell do you mean by that?”

  Shining Star offered a broad gesture, taking in both John and Shockwave, and finally himself. “Given our reputation, the supporting agents probably feel the situation is already well in hand. Remember, they haven’t faced the Skygger. They don’t understand.”

  Shockwave scoffed. “Still gonna report the little shit.”

  “I agree that you should,” Shining Star a
ssured him. “I don’t excuse his poor performance, I’m just offering an explanation.”

  “It doesn’t really matter.” When the two looked to John, he continued, “That pastor posed no serious threat, and the Skygger would’ve known that. It didn’t truly believe that Pastor Ron would get to Vortex. It just wants us on edge, to know that it’s still out there, waiting.”

  Shockwave groused, “What the hell is this thing after, anyway? And I don’t just mean Vortex.”

  “You’re asking, what are the Skygger’s motives?”

  “Yeah. What the hell does it want? What’s it tryin’ to prove, or gain, from any of this? Most of the rogues we fight are just common thugs who got powers, or regular people who got powers and then turned into common thugs. Sometimes we get legit psychos, like Richard McLane, who want to take over the world, or whatever. But the regular rogues? They want money, or power, or respect. The alien bounty hunters last year? They wanted his people.” He hooked a thumb toward Shining Star. “What the hell does the Skygger want? Whatever bone it’s got to pick with you, or Vortex, or both ... things got weird around here before you showed up. I’m pretty sure the Skygger’s been around, messin’ with people, for at least a couple of weeks. Which seems to me like it was just doin’ it for fun.”

  John shook his head. “I don’t pretend to know much about the Skygger’s inner workings. I know it’s sadistic, that it loves to desecrate the religious and the personal, that inflicting fear, and pain — both physical and emotional — makes it practically giddy. We stand here, right now, under these specific circumstances dealing with that ...” He pointed in the direction Pastor Ron had been taken. “... because I hurt it, and it wants revenge. But why, really? I know it’s been around a long time, and as devious as it is, I cannot possibly be the first person who’s managed to cause it pain. So ... does it want revenge, or does it need revenge in some way? Is it a sadist by choice, or is it addicted to sadism? I’m wondering if the question is less about what it wants, and more about what it needs.”

  Shockwave sighed. “Yeah. That, or maybe this is one of those ‘some men just want to watch the world burn’ kinda things.”