Blood Hunter

by Debra Jess

  "We've rented the warehouse at the south end of the boardwalk along the harbor. We'll perform the autopsies there so that the Star Haven delegation can observe the process if they choose to without having to come downtown."

  Without having to enter the heart of a city that loves its Alts. Another, more horrible thought occurred to Hannah.

  "Is Miranda Dane one of the bodies you're going to examine?"

  McNamara looked away from her gaze.

  "Don't lie to me. Don't try to make this easier. Are you going to autopsy Miranda Dane?"

  McNamara returned to lock eyes with her once again. "Yes, but you don't have to be there for that particular examination. I wouldn't expect you to be there. We'll save her for last and you can — "

  "I want to be there." Hannah surprised herself with the strength of her voice. "I want to watch Miranda Dane's autopsy. I need to see for myself that she's dead. She holds — held — so many secrets. I need to see her body for myself."

  I need to stop imagining she's still alive. I need to stop believing she can still hurt me. I need to get her out of my head.

  "Are you sure?" McNamara's voice hardened, deepened.

  Hannah took a deep breath and held it until the shaking stopped.

  "I'm sure." Hannah tossed the bottle into the waste basket. "How soon can I start?"

  "As soon as you pass the test, which brings me to the second question. You need to prove you're able to control your power before Thunder City will let you work here. I can't possibly undertake so many autopsies while I'm sick. If I can arrange it with the judge and with the Committee, would you be willing to heal me of this cold as your proof of control?"

  "Yes." The word was out of her mouth before McNamara had even finished talking. Her fingers twitched with the desire to heal him right now. Rip off her gloves, reach across the desk and touch him, skin-on-skin, and do what she did best. She wanted to work. She wanted to feel useful, but first, she had to prove that she had control.

  McNamara leaned back again. "Wonderful. I'll make the phone calls right now. With luck, we can finalize the arrangements today."

  For the first time in a long time, Hannah could feel herself smile.

  Scott watched Hannah until she made it to the end of the skyway and rounded a corner. Maybe she was right and they both needed a break from one another. Even as he watched her disappear, and the urge to run after her was strong, a small piece of his heart sighed with relief at being alone for the first time since he had fallen out of that helicopter. He had never realized how much you could care for someone and still crave your own space.

  After all, Catherine and Thomas had as solid a marriage as anyone else, but they didn't spend every second of every day hanging off each other. How could they when they both had two jobs: acting as CEOs of their respective companies, Blackwood Enterprises and Carraro Security, and managing T-CASS operations? No matter how busy they got, they made time for each other, but they also made time for themselves alone. Someday he'd talk to Thomas about how he managed a marriage like he and Catherine had.

  Confident that Hannah wouldn't get into trouble between the garage and McNamara's office, Scott walked toward the concrete half-wall. The western view of Thunder City pointed at the Arena in the distance, with the airport farther along. Peering down at the street below, he could see crowds of hopefuls packed into the hospital courtyard, the overspill of people lined up along the boulevard. They wanted access to the Blood Surfer. The media had adopted Hannah's description of her ability and used it as her moniker, even though she hadn't joined T-CASS. They didn't give a shit about Hannah, the person. If the crowd demanded unrestricted access to her, things would get real ugly real fast.

  He watched while what looked like hospital security set up a perimeter along the front entrance. At the same time other hospital employees moved a podium, microphone, and speaker to the center of the top step. The crowd grew restless, with some folks shouting at security, but no one tried to rush the steps to force their way through the front doors. At least, not yet.

  Scott pulled out his phone and checked the streaming news service. The feed split between images from the quarry and the crowd at the hospital, all the while speculating about Hannah's healing ability and where was she now. If they only knew she was actually in the hospital, but McNamara had been discreet when parking his Cadillac. The journalist reporting for one channel said they had contacted City Hall and T-CASS demanding answers to her immediate whereabouts, but no officials had responded.

  Scott wondered if Catherine or his twin brothers had returned from Star Haven yet. All three could fly across Mystic Bay in record time, but Catherine at least preferred not to make a show of her powers unless she had to. She would avoid flying directly over Star Haven, given that the Alt-ban was still in place. The twins, on the other hand, liked to show off for their fans and would fly over Star Haven just to antagonize the haters below.

  Speaking of brothers...Scott shot off a text message to Nik, his eldest brother who'd returned from the quarry as soon as the raid ended, along with a snapshot of the crowd. If most of T-CASS was still at the quarry and didn't join his mother for the journey back to Thunder City, then the T-CASS ranks would be stretched thin. If Nik was busy working for his father, then he might not know about the crowd at the hospital. He definitely wouldn't know about Hannah being inside the hospital. Without giving too much detail, Scott told him about Hannah’s whereabouts in case the crowd surged and made it inside. If that happened, Scott could get to Hannah before they did, but it wouldn't hurt to have back-up.

  The message sent, Scott disconnected the line, turned around, and damn near smacked into a guy who hadn't been standing there thirty seconds ago. Before Scott could even get out a "hey, watch it," the guy shoved Scott aside. He dressed in black, wore sunglasses, and carried a Colt rifle like he knew how to use it.

  Scott backed away while reaching for his Ruger.

  "You'll be dead before you get off a shot."

  Scott froze. The guy hadn't even turned around to see what Scott was doing, yet he knew anyway. "Want to tell me why you're on the roof of a hospital with a rifle?"

  The guy didn't bother to look at Scott. His sole focus was the crowd below. "The Norms want a piece of your girlfriend. Riots are a bitch."

  Scott risked pulling his weapon, but not yet taking aim. "If you fire into a crowd of unarmed Norms, you'll be the one who causes a riot."

  "It's still a mess. I've been ordered to clean it up."

  "Whose orders?"

  "Doctor Russel McNamara."

  Scott choked on the name. "He ordered you to shoot into a crowd?"

  "No, he ordered me to protect your girlfriend from a threat. Those Norms down there are a threat."

  "I can't let you do that." Scott raised his gun, took aim. "I won't."

  "So, stop me."

  Except the rifle was still pointed up, not at Scott, not at the crowd. He couldn't justify his shot unless this...whoever the hell he was targeted the innocent bystanders below, or targeted Scott.

  Before Scott could shake off his quandary, the guy tossed the rifle and dive-rolled, landing in front of Scott. Scott dodged the fist flying at his face, saving himself from yet another black eye. He backed up, unable to fire at close range. He dropped the Ruger and raised his arms to deflect the blows.

  They dodged and weaved around the cars. This guy was no amateur. Scott connected a few times, but he couldn't so much as knock off the guy's sunglasses.

  "Stop it!" With a shove worthy of a third-grade brawler, Scott pushed the guy off of him. "What the hell are you doing?"

  The guy wasn't even breathing heavy. "You've got some moves, but not enough. You lack motivation. Why didn't you translocate the rifle?"

  Confusion froze Scott again. "I'm not allowed." It was a dick answer and he knew it. He had never thought to translocate the gun when he had the chance. Instead, he’d reached for his own gun.

  "Since when do you care about the laws of Thun
der City?" The guy backed up, but not far enough. "You almost left because your girlfriend told you to."

  News of his and Hannah's escape from Division Six and the showdown at the train station must have hit the news cycle. "So what? Thunder City wanted to separate me from Hannah. We chose each other instead of Thunder City."

  Scott couldn't see the guy roll his eyes under the sunglasses, but his imagination worked just as well. "So the red-headed hottie gives an order and you jump to? You don't even have the stones to make your own decisions. No wonder you failed."

  "I didn't fail. I obeyed the law. Not to mention I need to practice. My translocation doesn't always work." Why did he confess his failure to a complete stranger?

  "I just gave you a chance to practice. You blew it." The guy walked away to pick up the rifle.

  Scott couldn't see where he'd dropped his own gun, so he ran past the guy to stand between him and the half-wall. He'd be damned if he was going to let some crazy-assed thug attack him, insult him, then shoot into a crowd. "I'm not letting you shoot."

  The guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a hospital ID. "I work here. The admins know about the gun. I won't shoot if the crowd doesn't cause trouble."

  Scott stood his ground. Hospital ID or not, McNamara's approval or not, Scott was not going to take the chance. This guy wanted him to go away. Scott was going to stay if it meant protecting those below. Even if they did rush the hospital, he had to believe he could find Hannah before they did. This guy knew his way around the hospital better than Scott. He'd make this son-of-a-bitch take him to her one way or another.

  From down below, he could hear the sound system squeak.

  Putting his faith in Thunder City like he never had before, Scott turned his back and prayed that his instincts were correct. Below, a man in a suit stood on the steps leading into the main entrance of the hospital. The crowd surged forward, straining to hear every word.

  As if out of nowhere, a bright orange T-CASS style uniform appeared on the steps. The color stood there for a second before replicating itself between the crowd and the podium, preventing the crowd from mounting the steps. Overhead, a bright white streak rocketed over the crowd. Another splash of color bounced into the air and arced into a gap between the crowd and the oncoming traffic from the boulevard. He knew the moniker of this particular Alt: Hopper. She must be part of a reserve team, one that didn't take part in the quarry raid.

  The sound system boomed as the administrator talked. Scott couldn't hear the exact words. The low roar of disappointment rippled through the crowd. Some started to disperse right away. Others stayed put, hugging each other in grief, but not trying to enter the hospital.

  "You see," Scott said. "No riot. T-CASS wasn't even needed to hold them back, but they're here now. You and your gun aren't needed after all."

  The guy had lowered the rifle and stepped to the edge of the roof, to stand right next to Scott. "And you hate it, don't you? Not being down there with your badge. Not being able to show your girlfriend you're worthy of her."

  His words hit hard. How could this random stranger understand Scott's frustration and anger so well, splatter it on a canvas right in Scott's path so he couldn't avoid it, couldn't pretend it wasn't there?

  "It doesn't matter how I feel. I can't go back to Star Haven. I'm an Alt, whether I like it or not."

  "Today. Maybe tomorrow. But, what of next week? There's a war brewing and T-CASS can't stop it."

  "You mean Alts versus Norms? Maybe in Star Haven." Scott rolled his eyes. "Not in Thunder City. T-CASS is designed to make Norms feel more comfortable with Alts. It's what Captain Spec has worked for her entire adult life."

  "If you think it's that simple, then you're an even bigger fool than your mother."

  Sticks and stones. This time Scott let the insult to both himself and his mother pass.

  "You say there's a war coming? That's hardly news. The Left Fists threaten war with Star Haven every other week. This isn't my first war."

  "No?" The guy yanked Scott's shoulder, forcing him to stand nose-to-nose. They were the same height, but the guy still kept his sunglasses close to his face. "You think you're prepared? You think you know what this is all about? Your girlfriend has made you soft. She's distracting you from what's really happening in this city."

  The roll of elevator doors interrupted him. The guy backed off, but only by an inch.

  "Watch your back. We're not done, yet."

  The guy marched away, back toward the hospital. The thick metal doors leading to the stairwell slammed closed behind him.

  A conspiracy theorist, nothing more. Well, nothing more with a high-powered rifle and access to the hospital. Scott wasn't sure he wanted that guy anywhere near Hannah, but he'd promised Hannah she'd have her time alone with McNamara. He had to trust her instincts, and his instincts said following this guy down to McNamara's office wouldn't help her.

  Scott looked at his empty hands. A real cop would have reported the encounter. A decent citizen would have called T-CASS. This thug wanted Scott's attention and he got it, but why did Scott give it to him?

  What he had said about Scott wanting to be in the thick of the crowd with his badge...the thug had been right. If Scott trained with T-CASS, but chose not to work for them, he'd have no future in Thunder City outside of Hannah. He loved her, but he'd have to find a job if he didn't want to depend on his father for the rest of his life. Thunder City police sure as hell wouldn't hire him even if the city prosecutor decided to let his shooting of Electrocyte slide.

  The thug, whoever he was, had managed to rip into all of Scott's fears, forcing him to examine them. What if he couldn't control his power? Where would he go?

  Thoughts of leaving Thunder City without Hannah weighed heavy on his shoulders. She belonged here, he didn't. He never had. He loved Hannah, he loved Thomas, but was that enough to build a life? If he left, could he still build a life without them?

  He looked at the disbursing crowd below, T-CASS in their bright uniforms milling around the Norms. Scott still couldn't find any answers.

  5

  Hannah tried not to show her impatience as McNamara lay down on the hospital bed. Around her, all of the members of the Oversight Committee crowded into the operating theater, the only room big enough to accommodate everyone and still allow them to watch her, well, "operate." Even Catherine was there, standing behind Hannah, giving her support through her presence if not through physical contact.

  Catherine had returned from Star Haven late yesterday afternoon to a flurry of activity involving her company and T-CASS and Thunder City. Yet, she had still taken time to talk to McNamara, after he'd brought Hannah home from the hospital, about his plan to use himself as a subject for Hannah's test this morning.

  After a thorough grilling about safety, which McNamara handled with mixture of aplomb and gentle humor, Catherine had agreed to bring Hannah back to the hospital this morning, though she'd had Garrett drive them. No flying with Catherine unless it was an emergency. Hannah's test to see if she had control over her powers didn't qualify as an emergency.

  "I'm ready." McNamara nodded at her.

  Johnson was there of course, like a shark waiting for chum. "You may proceed."

  Hannah kept her growl of aggravation to herself. She'd like to see Johnson try to use that tone with Catherine, but for now, she pulled off a glove and touched McNamara's cheek.

  Inside. She headed to his sinuses because all of his external symptoms indicated this was a head cold. She was right. A colony of rhinovirus skittered around, wreaking havoc. McNamara's immune system couldn't keep up with the trouble.

  "So, you wanna play rough, huh?"

  Hannah glared at the army of rat bastards floating in front of her. Those spiky blobs of overstuffed proteins thought they could run her over, push her around, mess her up real good? Well, they were nothing compared to Miranda Dane, so those slimy good-for-nothing cankers had another think coming.

  "Time to separate the pros fro
m the goobs," she shouted to no one but herself. "On the count of three!"

  With a mere thought, she summoned an army of reinforcements - white blood cells she could command.

  "One...two..."

  Leave it to white blood cells to have no respect for a countdown or her authority. They charged past her already knowing how to kill a colony of wimpy rhinoviruses. Hannah assisted the assault by weakening each virus with a well-placed kick to where it hurt the most — the outer membranes.

  If only she could kick Johnson where it hurt the most.

  The weak viruses died faster with every pass Hannah made through their cluster. Hannah wanted to end this operation so she could take off both of her damn gloves in the outside world. She'd obeyed the letter of the law last night and kept the bulky gloves on even when she was alone, talking to Scott on the televideo in the video room.

  They'd talked for hours, mostly venting their frustration about the Committee. They might have talked all night, but Nik had stuck his head into the room looking for Thomas sometime after midnight. Nik's interruption forced her to notice the time, which in turn made her yawn. Scott laughed and told her to go to sleep. She didn't even take the gloves off when she finally crawled into bed.

  With the rhinoviruses defeated, Hannah pushed herself into the nearest vein and zipped through the rest of McNamara's body, checking to see if he suffered from anything other than the head cold. She found little to no plaque in the arteries, a healthy liver, strong bones, and just a touch of arthritis in the left hip. She eliminated the arthritis since it wouldn't take too long.

  If only she could have Scott by her side. She didn't regret insisting on time to herself yesterday, but even after their phone call, she still woke up missing him. Maybe this was what love was supposed to be: wanting to be with a man who touched her so deeply she could feel his emotions even from across the city.

  McNamara shifted on the hospital bed, backwashing her into his stomach. There was nothing else to fix and she didn't want to linger.