Her eyes widened a fraction as she took in “Bleeding Heart Benjamin” before her, water running down my face with no effect.
I flicked my baton. “You know I can kill you with impunity, right? It’s a superhero’s privilege.”
She swallowed, her eyes darting up and down as she looked for the “real” me. There was a beat, and then—
I grabbed her just as she’d turned to run through the wall. Yanking her hair, I pulled her back into the hallway. She shrieked and spun around, dropping her knife in alarm and throwing a volley of wild punches at my face, chest, and shoulders. My training kicked in, and I blocked most of her blows, dimly surprised that I could.
My hand found her throat. I threw her against the wall. Not waiting for her response, I banged her head into the wall again, then again. She fell into a heap on the floor and didn’t move.
There was no time to celebrate. Bullets from outside shattered the glass wall. I ducked and ran for cover, unable to use super speed because of the pain of Alysia’s kick. Beyond the glass, new screams lit up the night. I had to find my team, fast.
I turned another corner and skidded to a halt. Half a dozen bodies littered the floor, all of them shot in the head. The hallway ended at a shattered window. From the window, freezing wind blew in and raised the hair on the back of my neck. I couldn’t see anything beyond the halo of broken glass sticking out of the frame.
A man in a nursing uniform flew out of an open door and crashed into the opposite wall. Marco marched through the door, raised his hand, and shot a narrow, rippling beam of heat directly at the man’s forehead. A disgusting burning smell turned my stomach, and I averted my eyes.
Marco squared his shoulders. “This hallway is clear. I’m going through the window.”
Nodding, we dashed to the window. I knocked away the sharpest shards of glass with my baton, and we helped each other through into the chilly night. We landed in the soft snow drifts and hurried into the woods.
When we were behind a large tree, I sheathed my baton while Marco let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “I’ve been trying to contact Ember,” he whispered. “But I can’t hear a thing.”
“Animal telepath?” I suggested, never taking my eyes off the window we’d come through. “They know her weakness.” Jillian had told me about how Emma, the daughter of some family friends, had used her locust telepathy to block Ember’s powers at the Westerner compound.
“Maybe,” Marco said. “But there are a hell of a lot of enemies running around. I hope she’s with Reid or Jill or someone.”
I picked up on his line of thought. “They’re not here for Ember,” I said. “They’re here for the JM-104 and nothing else. In fact, I bet Brock’s telepathic illusions are blocking Ember’s powers.” It made sense. He himself was quite powerful. Maybe other types of telepathy canceled out Ember’s.
“I don’t know,” Marco said, biting his lip. “She’s never had a prob—”
The roars of two tigers drowned out whatever he was saying. We were knocked backwards without so much as a yell as Abby and Edward pounced from our left. Someone behind us cried out, a strangled, wet shout of terror, and then went silent.
I rolled over in the snow and saw Abby toss a hand away with a jerk of her huge head. Edward gulped something down, low growls emanating from deep within him. He batted snow over the corpse and turned to look at us, dissolving into the form of a man with the same sucking sound as Abby always made. His sunglasses were still on his head.
“Third one I’ve killed tonight,” he said. “He was about to shoot you guys. Next time maybe use some situational awareness, hmm?” He picked up a pistol from the snow and unloaded it, then tossed the bullets into the snow. “If you’re looking for your team, they’re over there.” He pointed to a set of double doors several dozen yards away. Two more bodies lay ripped apart by the entrance. “They were trying to set up a trap, I think, so be careful.”
“Thanks,” I said as I extended my baton again. It wasn’t going back in its sheath until we were a hundred miles from here.
Marco put his hand on Abby’s head. “Have you seen Ember? Smelled her? Anything?”
Abby lifted her paw and looked in the opposite direction of the double doors, near the path that led to the helipad.
More shooting and screams interrupted our little club meeting. Edward cursed. “We’ll see you around.”
He leapt into tiger form and made to go deeper into the woods, but Abby let out a rough, feline kind of sound. Edward stopped to stare at her, and she jerked her head towards the helipad. He shook his head, but Abby nodded. She bit Marco’s sleeve and began to pull him towards the helipad.
Edward’s sigh sounded quite human to my ears.
“I’ll get the team and rendezvous with you guys at the helipad,” I said to Marco. He nodded and began to head in that direction, leaving me to go through the double doors without cover or backup.
Keeping low, I ran to the wall of the hospital and hurried along the edge, where the snow wasn’t as deep. This part of the wall was brick, not glass, so I was only exposed from one side. As such, I kept an eye on the trees. Several of them had been knocked down by a blast. When I arrived at the double doors, I reached for the knob, straining to hear anything on the other side.
A quiet, masculine groan from my left made me pause. “Reid?” I turned around and searched for my teammate, but didn’t see him. “Reid, where are you?”
“Here.” The voice came from near the fallen trees. He was lying prone under a tree, pinned by branches as thick as my leg.
“Reid!” I fell to my knees next to him and grabbed his hand.
“Get it off,” he gasped. “Can’t…can’t breathe.”
“Yeah, right,” I said as I began to pull him out from the branches. Like I could ever get a tree off someone. I wasn’t Jillian. With a grunt of effort, I slid Reid out of the tangle of wood and dead leaves.
He clambered awkwardly to his feet, shivering uncontrollably. “What happened?”
A single gunshot from behind the double doors stopped him from answering. He raised a hand, his eyes instantly aglow, but slowly lowered it. Another gunshot sounded, but nobody was shooting at us. A third gunshot made us look quizzically at each other. These weren’t the frenetic pop-pop-pops we’d heard since the beginning of the fray.
Far in the distance, a tiger’s roar mixed with Marco’s furious shouts.
“Go,” I said, pushing him away. “I’ll handle the shooter.”
Reid stumbled a few steps, then made himself a flying platform and disappeared up and over the roof. I pushed open the door, immediately assaulted by blaring alarms and the hellish red light that muted all colors. It was the operating hallway where Jillian’s room was.
A battlefield lay before me. At least twenty people had died here, their bodies limp and bleeding. Two members of the Burlington team, their names forgotten to me, were among the fallen. All the bodies were angled away from the door—they’d died with their faces to the enemy.
Brock Snider stood over a nurse and shot him in the head. He was executing survivors.
After murdering his latest victim, he serenely stretched, as if he were tired, then turned to face me. An infuriating little smile played around his lips as he raised his revolver to my eye level.
I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and prepared to charge him, but a tarantula on my face threw me off for half a second.
I braced for the bullet.
Instead, he swung arm around and shot a woman lying to his side, his eyes full of malicious humor. Then he raised his gun to me again and backed away, never breaking eye contact until he kicked open the door behind him and ran off.
I stepped over bodies as I went from door to door to check for survivors, burying my sadness over the massacre. I’d allow myself to feel it later, when we were out of danger. I’d found Reid and Marco, but where were Ember and Jillian? Ember apparently was near the helipad, but my wife? Who could say where she’
d go during an attack?
I put my hand on the neck of the unfortunate man that Brock had shot as I’d watched. Nothing happened. In fact, nothing in the hallway triggered my healing power. I didn’t even look at Brock’s final victim, the dead woman, as I passed her.
My hand was on the door when I stopped.
I turned around, a lump in my throat that hadn’t been there only a few seconds earlier.
The dead woman’s long, dark, shoulder-length hair obscured her face, but her tallness was obvious from the length of her legs. Toned arms hinted at an active lifestyle. She wore dark scrubs covered in blood.
I couldn’t feel my limbs as I sank to my knees next to the corpse. With shaking hands I tilted the head up and brushed away the hair.
Jillian’s dead eyes gazed at nothing.
Item Twenty-Three
Coded letter sent from Gerald Trent to his brother, Franklin Trent, Jr., dated April 2, 1966.
Gerry,
Don’t you dare go blaming me for what happened to Emil. I told him to avoid Battlecry. The doctor says I should thank my lucky stars that her banshee scream didn’t shatter my eardrum along with the windshield.
I’m so tired of those white hats. Philadelphia used to be our town. I’m tired of running around in the dark. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Someone should do something.
Frankie
23
Pounding in my ears.
Numbness spreading into my fingers.
Tingling everywhere as my lungs failed me, failing to hold the air I gasped for.
Cold linoleum against my cheek.
Jillian’s distant brown eyes staring into mine.
Item Twenty-Four
Headline of The New York Times, July 23, 1967.
PHILLY HEROES MURDERED
Grisly Film Reel Sent to Studios - Country in Shock
24
I stumbled out into the snow.
Nothing.
There was nothing for me.
Every second that dragged past was an explosion of agony, ripping my skin away from my muscles, my muscles from my bones, each joint separating as I screamed for relief. None ever came, and then the next second would begin.
I dropped to my knees, the pain ripping out of my throat and into the frozen sky.
Nothing.
Somewhere out there, where I ceased to exist and the fragments of other people began, my families were fighting. Streaks of orange and yellow coursed across the sky, fiery hallmarks of battle, all silent beneath the rushing and pounding of blood in my ears.
I lurched to my feet. Stumbled. Fell.
I got up again.
My feet took me into the woods. I crashed down, this time the screams coming out of me until I was hoarse.
They turned into sobs.
She’d been twenty-one years old. Twenty-one, funny, kind, courageous, and so innocent. All Jillian had ever wanted was to save people. Behind the top layer of knife-wielding superhero leader had been a young woman who’d just wanted to save people. To help them. To be a hero because someone had to be. She’d deserved the chance to set down her weapons and walk away toward a life of choices.
But people don’t always get what they deserve.
I slowly lifted my head, my tears slowing as burning replaced the water in my eyes.
Beau was going to get what he deserved. Beau, Brock, all of them. They were going to get what they deserved.
I stood, the sights and sounds of the night newly crisp, yet not a fraction as threatening as before. My racing thoughts pulled me towards just one destination: Beau. He was here, and he was going to die.
But where to start?
I marched through the snow towards the helipad. First things first: disable the getaway vehicles. Maybe get the rest of my team to help. Marco would kill a million men to avenge the death of another sister. Reid and Ember would fall apart, but then again, that wouldn’t be anything I hadn’t dealt with before. As Marco had demonstrated, threatening to kill them could work wonders.
I flattened myself against the brick wall by the corner before the turn for the helipad.
A bullet whizzed through a window behind me, shattering it and throwing glass everywhere.
Whatever.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men had converged on the helipad before I’d entered the hallway where—no, think about something else—yet I couldn’t hear anything around the corner except…
More explosions. Shots. Alarms.
Damn it, be quiet so I can hear.
A man’s strangled yell fought for dominance over a woman’s furious shouts. Whose, though?
I turned the corner and stopped at the edge of the wide concrete helipad. Four helicopters were waiting, doors open, for occupants. A fifth’s rotors were whirring rapidly, though its door was closed.
Beyond them, Brock was struggling mightily to pull Ember towards the revved-up helicopter. She had a knife in hand; he had several bleeding gashes on his arms and face. She flailed and grabbed a tuft of his hair.
I slammed into Brock. Ember tumbled down onto all fours, while Brock flew into the skids of the helicopter, his head banging hard against it. He dazedly reached for his gun.
I was faster. From then on, I’d always be faster.
I snatched the gun and leveled it at his head, the water returning to my eyes and washing away whatever emotion was on his face.
Ember looked up. “Ben—!”
My finger moved.
There was a sharp silence, underlined only by the roar of the rotors. I wiped bits of Brock off my face, then took a deep breath and scooped up the spare bullets that had tumbled out of his fake nurse scrubs. I methodically loaded the six-round chamber, spinning it when it was done. Without looking away, I said, “Find Beau.”
“Ben, you just—”
“He killed Jillian. Find. Beau.” I turned to look at her. Brock’s blood dripped down my face.
Her eyes almost doubled in size. “No, no, no…” She fell backwards onto her bottom and held her cheeks. “No, that’s not possible!”
“I said find Beau!”
She shrieked and scrambled away on her elbows. “Please, don’t!”
The water overflowed. “Don’t what? Shoot you?! I don’t want to shoot you! Don’t you get it? I want to kill the people who murdered my wife! Now get up and find them!”
An inferno of hate cascaded through my being, destroying every last shred of mercy or tenderness. If Ember wasn’t going to help me, than she was in my way.
And I knew what how to handle superheroines who were in my way.
My breathing slowed, and I lifted my arm again. My vision tunneled, narrowing to just Ember at the business end of my gun. “Do it. Now.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a threat anymore.
Ember stared at the end of my gun, her face going slack. “You’ll really kill me, won’t you?”
The gun shook so much that I switched my stance to a more solid double-handed grip. “I’ll kill anyone and anything.” My chest heaved. “I know J-Jillian wouldn’t want me to, but she’s not here. Don’t bother trying to drop her name. It’s not going to work.”
She blinked up at me, raw horror on her face. “I can’t believe…Even you.”
I thumbed back the hammer. “Last chance.”
She closed her eyes and breathed. When she opened them, a new darkness clouded her gaze. “Beau’s already gone. He found out where the JM-104 really is, and he’s on the way there now. If we hurry, we can catch him before he gets it. Get in the helicopter.”
I slowly lowered my arm. “Where is it?”
She swallowed. “The chemical lab in Baltimore.”
Go figure.
I wrenched open the door to the aircraft. The pilot spun around in his seat. “Hey, you aren’t—”
He clutched his head and yelped.
Ember hopped inside and slammed the door. “This is Kevin. He’s an employee of Bell Enterprises and of the Trent family.”
I aimed the gun at Kevin, who was still clutching his head and crying. “What are you doing to him?”
Ember settled into a seat and fastened her seat belt. “Stop waving that stupid thing around. I’m warning him what I can do if he doesn’t obey me.” She smiled.
Kevin gasped and shivered. “Okay, okay, fine. We’re going. Don’t do that again, please.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Get us in the air in the next five seconds, Kev, and I won’t. We’re going to Bell’s lab in Baltimore. You know the one.” There was a pause, and then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, land in the parking lot, for all I care.”
His hands flew over the controls, and indeed, just seconds later we were airborne.
A light fog settled on my brain, clouding my thoughts, muddling them. Suddenly dizzy, I sat across from Ember and fastened my own seatbelt, then looked out across the shrinking helipad.
Two tigers were staring up at us. One turned into Abby, and she waved her arms frantically, her mouth moving.
I looked away from the window. “What is she saying?”
Ember snorted. “She’s calling for Reid. She thinks we’ve been kidnapped.”
“Do you think he’ll chase us?”
“No. He can’t go this fast or this high.”
“That probably won’t stop him from trying, though, right?”
Ember looked out the window for nearly a minute before she spoke. “Yes, he’ll try. Like always. And he’ll fail, like always.”
I leaned forward. “What—?”
“Patrick. The elders. The Westerners. Your brother.” Her low voice, laden with the tragedies of a lifetime, carried through clearly across the space. She closed her eyes and touched her delicate fingers to her face. “It’s not personal against him…but he couldn’t keep me safe from any of those people. Who could?”
Well, yeah, she had a point. “Where was Reid when Brock…?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered, her eyes still closed. “Something blew up across the campus, and he told me to stay low and out of sight while he went to investigate with the others. I begged him to stay with me.” A tear escaped her lashes, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “I literally begged him. I would’ve gotten on my knees if he’d stayed long enough.”
Mercury Page 26