Born to Darkness (61 page)

“Why do Navy SEALs do anything?” Elliot asked and then answered his own question, his voice lowered as if telling her a secret. “They’re a little crazy.”

“He’ll probably enjoy the challenge,” Stephen said.

“We can seal the deal—pun intended—by making Mac part of your assault team,” Elliot told Stephen, who was nodding.

“I’m part of what assault team?”

They all looked up to see Mac standing there, a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee in her hands. “I got a text from Bach last night—he told me when I got here, I should come find Diaz. So, here I am. Mission accomplished—well, except for the accepting-my-punishment part.”

“No one’s going to punish you,” Stephen said quietly. “I think you’ve probably already punished yourself enough.”

Mac looked at him and although she didn’t nod, it was clear she was in agreement. She appeared decidedly worse for the wear. Her pixie-short hair looked as if she’d showered and then slept on it. And still she managed to be one of the most beautiful women Anna had ever seen in her life.

She watched as Mac sat down and began shoveling the food into her mouth.

“Speaking of medical scans …” Elliot said, using the computer keyboard to enter some information.

“Were we speaking of med scans?” Mac asked, looking to Anna and Stephen for confirmation, her mouth full.

“It was back a bit, but yeah,” Stephen told her.

“Hold still,” Elliot said. “For a full scan—or at least the best we can do with your clothes on.”

“I’m fine,” Mac said, continuing to eat.

“Hold. Still.”

Mac sighed and froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, while giving him a baleful glare.

“Look at that, you
are
fine,” Elliot confirmed as Mac went back to her food. “Both bullet wounds are completely healed, and … Your integration levels are back to only minor wavering between fifty-three and fifty-four. Thank you, Shane Laughlin. Job well done.”

“Do you know that you spiked to seventy-one?” Stephen asked her.

Mac was surprised. “Shit. Did I really?”

“After you eat,” Elliot said, “I want to run more tests on you—and Shane, too. I want to see if there’s anything we can do to keep this from happening again.”

“Next time, just lock me up,” Mac recommended, “after you send me into the head of a psychopath. FYI, it wasn’t about Shane.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not buying that,” Elliot said.

“So … where is he?” Stephen asked, scanning the room.

“Shane.”

“He needed to sleep,” Mac said, but her shrugged casualness seemed forced.

“Seriously?” Elliot asked. “
That’s
how you thank him? By ditching him? Again?”

“I didn’t ditch him,” Mac said. “I just let him sleep.”

Their conversation continued—Anna could see them talking, see their mouths moving, but their words faded, drowned out by the strangest buzzing sound.

She looked around, confused. Where was that coming from?

But no one else seemed to hear it. Their mouths were in motion as Stephen and Elliot used the computer as a visual aid and explained to Mac everything they’d discovered about the Organization building where Nika was being held—about the illegal medical scanners used by the Org’s security team, and about the need for a non-Greater-Than to shut those scanners down from inside.

And still the noise continued, rattling her brain. Anna tried to take a sip of water, but her hand was shaking so she put the glass back down.

The conversation was still going on, but the words were distant and the colors of the room itself seemed odd and too bright, so she closed her eyes and breathed, again using Joseph Bach’s peace-inducing techniques.
Calm blue ocean …

At first the buzzing got louder and the dizziness increased, but then suddenly it just snapped off and there was silence. But it was a weird silence. A warm silence—as if she’d just stepped into the
pitch-blackness of a small closet that was already occupied. And when a voice spoke, she wasn’t completely surprised.

Anna?
Whoever it was, it was a girl or maybe a young woman. And it was clear from Stephen, Elliot, and Mac’s complete absorption in their conversation that this female voice was something only Anna could hear.

And even though she knew it wasn’t her sister, Anna thought back,
Nika?

No
, the voice said. It was strained, whispered, urgent.
But I know her. I’ve seen her, spoken to her. Cristopher—the man in charge—he wants to kill her. She’s become too much trouble. Too powerful for him to handle. He’s talking to the board of directors right now. If they give their permission—and they will, they always do—he’ll return and bleed her dry
.

Oh, God, no …

You must listen
, the girl told her.
Very carefully. Because I’m going to do it. I’m going to help her. Together we’ll try to escape—God help us. But you and your friends have got to help. You’ve got to meet us halfway—if you can.…

We will
, Anna told her.
We can. We’re devising a plan right now, to break in
.

Really?
There was a pause.
How soon?

I don’t know
, Anna said.
It’s complicated. It’s going to take us awhile. Days, possibly
.

The girl was adamant.
That’s not soon enough
.

We’re just not prepared—

I’m not going to wait
, the girl told her.
I’m going to take Nika and run, but you’ve got to meet me at—

The buzzing was back, obscuring her words, and Anna stood. Stephen, Elliot, and Mac all looked curiously up at her.

“Excuse me,” she said, and walked slightly away from the table, hoping that the buzzing was some sort of interference and if she moved a bit, the girl would come back.

And sure enough, as she headed toward the door to the lounge, the buzzing lessened. It was still back there, but she could hear the
girl again.
Are you there? What happened? I almost lost you—oh, Lord, maybe they know …

Tell me quickly before I lose you again
—where
should we meet you?
Anna asked, jumping as Mac touched her arm.

“Anna, are you all right?”

Anna could see the concern in the other woman’s eyes, as she shook her head, no, even as the girl’s voice was again drowned out by the buzzing sound.

Tell me again
, Anna said.
I’m losing you!

She could only hear ragged bits and pieces of words now.
Maybe
and
connection
and
prove
—improve—and
outside
. And then she heard the girl’s voice, crystal clearly,
Maybe if you go outside, and up onto a hill without any buildings or trees …

Yes, yes—she could do that! Anna pulled away from Mac and went out of the lounge, running now through the hall toward the stairs that led to the ground-floor entrance.

There
was
a gently sloping tree-free hill between this main building and the fence that surrounded the compound. It was covered in the lush green grass of spring, thanks to all the rain they’d been having lately. Anna thundered down the stairs, aware that Mac was right behind her, with Stephen and Elliot bringing up the rear.

“Where are you going?” Mac asked, her voice nearly drowned out, too, by the buzzing in Anna’s head. “Anna, what the
hell
…?”

Stephen wasn’t quite sure what was happening. All he knew was that Mac had taken off, chasing Anna down the hall, so he’d followed, curious as to what was going on, aware as hell that the feeling of foreboding that had been pressing down on his chest was back with a vengeance.

“There’s a girl,” he heard Anna shout back to Mac, even as she kept running, “who’s a prisoner, with Nika, and she’s sending me a message—she’s
projecting
a message! She’s going to escape with Nika, she’s going to help! But there’s this weird interference, this noise in my head, and I’ve
got
to get outside!”

“No,” Mac said, “Anna—no!”

But Anna was already past the Security checkpoint, and bursting through the door. Mac was right on her heels, but Anna was surprisingly fast.

Stephen skidded to a stop and turned to Elliot, who was right behind him. “Stay inside.”

Elliot didn’t say a word, but his expression held a shade of
oh no, you dih-n’t
, so Stephen added, “Please,” and touched him briefly on the side of his face.
Thank you. Love you
.

He didn’t wait for Elliot to respond, he just turned and raced after Anna and Mac.

He could hear Mac shouting as she followed Anna up the hill. “Don’t make me tackle you—don’t make me do it!”

He heard Anna’s reply, “Be quiet—you’ve got to be quiet! I can’t hear her over the noise!”

Shit—there
was
noise, and it wasn’t just inside of Anna’s head. It was a low sound, a thrumming sound, and Stephen looked up … And there it was, in the brilliant blue of the crisp spring morning sky—not a hawk circling overhead, but a pitch-black helicopter, diving toward them, fast, growing larger and larger.

And it wasn’t just a helicopter, it was a gunship, with weapons bristling on either side of the fuselage.

Stephen heard himself shouting to Mac, “Get inside, get her back inside,” but he knew there wasn’t enough time. It was over. Anna was going to be taken, flying up into the sky and away from OI, just as she’d done in his vision.

And he focused all of his power on that helicopter, on telekinetically swatting it out of the sky. It jolted and jumped, but it didn’t stop coming. Stephen tried again, and again he couldn’t move it—which didn’t make sense, unless it was somehow shielded …

So he changed tactics and he reached out with his mind and tried to find the minds of the men and women who were inside the gunship. Although this wasn’t his strength, his new Elliot-enhanced powers were still being revealed, and this was certainly worth a try.

But he felt—nothing. Almost as if the gunship were a drone, or manned by robots. There was no warmth, no humanity—again as if the people within were completely shielded.

But he didn’t give up—he couldn’t—and he tried to find a way in, a weakness in the shield, perhaps a chink where he could squeeze through and jam the engine, make it stall, but that didn’t work either.

Stephen could see the guards and some of the Thirties and Forties come out of Old Main as he kept running toward Anna and Mac, but there was nothing anyone besides Bach could possibly do to help.

But Bach wasn’t there. Stephen couldn’t feel him—wherever the Seventy-two was, he was far, far away.

And whoever was manning the weapons system on that gunship saw all those men and women spilling out of the building, and clearly had no idea that they were armed with little more than Tasers and trank guns. Or maybe they
did
know, and they were just motherfuckers, because Stephen knew with a hard, cold certainty that they were going to fire those machine guns. And he also knew with a sense of icy fear that those guns were—somehow—shielded, too. Still, he tried, with all of his might, to stop their bullets. He slowed one of the guns down, but he couldn’t stop them both. And as he felt the other break through his defense, he threw all of his own shielding powers, all of his self-protection, back toward Elliot, to keep
him
safe, right before that burst of machine-gun fire cracked and pinged against the building, shattering the glass in the windows and front doors.

And as the gunship swung back around, like some kind of death-spewing monster, Stephen felt something hit him hard in the back, again, and then again, and his legs crumpled beneath him and he went down, even as he saw Mac throw herself on top of Anna, as a trail of bullets tore up the turf around them, sending bits of dirt exploding into the air.

As he tried—and failed—to pull himself back to his feet, he saw the spray of blood as Mac was hit, saw three dark figures fast-roping
down from the helicopter, saw one of them pull Mac’s lifeless body off of Anna, who was kicking and screaming valiantly, but didn’t stand a chance against three large men, particularly since Mac, before she was shot, had clipped her wrist to Anna’s with one of the plastic restraints she always carried in her pockets.

Then one of the men hit Anna in the head with the butt of his rifle, and she slumped to the ground.

And as Stephen crawled toward them, still trying to reach them, as the gunship throbbed and thrummed overhead, the three dark-clothed men picked up both Anna and Mac. And all five of them were pulled up through the open door and into the cabin, even as it rocketed away.

Stephen rolled onto his side to watch it, a shrinking black shape, vanishing into the brilliant blue of the morning sky.

Only then, in defeat, did he allow himself to see the bright red of his own blood that was pooling around him, beneath him. He reached down to touch the sodden front of his shirt, to finger the hole in the fabric.

His stomach was bleeding—an exit wound from one of the bullets that had hit him in the back.

He was cold and his vision was tunneling, which couldn’t be good, but still, his heart leapt as Elliot’s face came into view. “You’re alive,” he said, but he couldn’t hear his voice, so maybe he didn’t get the words out.