Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (23 page)

* * * *

Monique heard the first distinct thud, felt the flinch from Erik’s body and instantly knew what had happened. She raised her head and sought Erik’s face. Simultaneously, she saw the pain reflected there then caught sight of the spray of blood emerging from his back as another bullet seared its way in Erik’s back.

She screamed, and as her hands became moistened from Erik’s warm blood, she stared up at her protector, supporting him and praying that he would survive his injuries.

Eyes that had comforted her earlier were changing into inhuman orbs that burned with an unknown power.

* * * *

There were screams of panic as the crowd realized what had just occurred. For Erik, time seemed to move in slow motion as his mind jumped into an accelerated state. Nerve endings transmitted impulses and commands far above a normal human body’s capacity. His enhanced metabolism was already at work, sealing what he now knew was a severed artery. While his body worked feverishly to expel the foreign objects that had precipitated such distress, Erik called to his staff tucked neatly beneath his cummerbund.

Protect the girl, shield her from harm.
With these words, he telepathically cried out to his primary weapon. Erik sensed the staff’s reluctance to leave its master, but the weapon complied. It leapt from its confinement and formed a protective, silver blister around them both. For the first time since Erik owned the weapon, it exhibited independent will and thought, by taking into account both the girl’s life and his life. His sentient staff was truly alive. His weapon acted of its own volition. For that he was thankful.

Well done!
He projected gratitude to the weapon. The staff hummed with appreciation like a dog that had just been praised by its owner.

I must go; protect the girl!

Monique was trembling with fear and was covered with his blood. He lifted her chin with a finger. “Listen to me, Monique, you’ll be safe inside this bubble. The staff will protect you from harm. Nothing can hurt you as long as you stay put. I must get the person who did this. I know you’re scared, but we’re both fine. We’ll make it; trust me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes streaming with tears. “How?” she asked. “You were hit three times. How did you survive?”

He gave her a weak smile. “I’m different, remember?”

She nodded.

“We’ll talk later. Now I need to get to work.” With his last words, he gave her a quick hug, feeling terrible. No one at her age should have to endure what she just did. Whoever did this would pay and pay dearly.

* * * *

Ralph Templar withdrew from view, stunned. The bastard had seen him, from all the way down on the dance floor. Even more amazing was that the guy had intentionally taken three bullets to protect the mark. Templar chanced a glance then stared in disbelief at the silver blip that now encompassed the pair. His last remaining two shots at the blip had been deflected into open space. How had the man accomplished this feat? What manner of weapon was this?

Monique LaSalle was unreachable as long as she remained inside that silver canopy. A good assassin knew when to cut and run, and now the time had come.

“Fall back!” Templar ordered his team. “Use the explosives for cover.” Then he heard a loud commotion coming from the dance floor. When he looked down, the man he had shot was outside the silvery canopy looking up at him, seemingly unharmed. Templar tried to resist, but he couldn’t help himself; he wanted one more crack at the man. Templar lifted his rifle and bored in on his target.

“Right between your eyes, asshole… I’m gonna place this next slug right between your eyes.”

Shanda Kerwin-Knight felt agitated, angry, but she hadn’t the foggiest idea why. Her son kicked and fussed inside her; then she realized that she was sensing her infant’s emotional state. Through her child she felt a tiny spark of the link to her husband that was being neutralized by the null fields surrounding her prison.

Her baby was picking up on his father and transmitting those feelings to her. She detected the distinct pattern that was clearly her husband’s and she knew intuitively that he was under some kind of stress.

Shanda had already accepted the fact that she could not communicate with him. But where she had failed, perhaps Erik’s son could succeed. If the babe could feel and detect his father, it should only be logical that the process would work in reverse. She realized one flaw in her thinking; her son was not human. He was an Esper warrior.

Would his father have to be in his Esper warrior form in order to detect his child? To her knowledge, Erik hadn’t transformed for several months. Her husband had uncovered abilities and latent powers he didn’t know how to cope with, and she knew they actually frightened him. Since those discoveries, he’d buried that part of himself and had opted to develop the talents he possessed while still in his human form.

Shanda had nothing to lose. She concentrated and focused her telepathic abilities on her unborn son, praying that the infant would comprehend her intentions.

Call to your father. Let him know that we need him. Call to your daddy my sweet baby boy.

* * * *

Erik read the assassin’s thoughts, his body instantly reacting as the man squeezed the trigger. With superhuman reflexes he avoided the speeding projectile. The bullet buried itself in the dance floor amidst more screams from terrified guests. The sniper turned to flee.

While the conflagration erupted around him, the rest of the security team was involved in their own firefight.

Erik wanted this sniper, alive. It was a risky leap – even for him – but if he changed, the jump would be nothing. Despite the many witnesses, he gathered his remaining strength and crouched; with a mighty heave he launched himself into the air. He flew over fifty feet. He grabbed the lower balcony rail and using the remaining momentum, he catapulted himself over the railing.

The sniper turned around. Both men reached for their pistols. Erik was quicker; he had both his Wilson combat pistols pointed at his quarry before the sniper could draw his gun.

“Take it out nice and slow. If you even think about shooting off a round, I’ll drop you where you stand,” Erik hissed.

Ralph Templar grinned as he produced an explosive device from inside his jacket. As he did an explosion shook the foyer.

“The explosives are potent, wouldn’t you agree? This one, unlike the others, is programmed to go off on impact. All I have to do is drop it,” Templar’s eyes wandered over the balcony. “You have a choice to make. You can kill me, which I’m sure you’re just itching to do, or you can try and save them. You’d have to jump over the balcony and catch the grenade, forcing it to explode before it hits the ground. You’ll die, of course, but you’ll have saved all those pathetic fools down there. I’m sure they’ll all be grateful for your sacrifice.”

“Don’t do it,” Erik warned. “Just disarm it and you can walk out of here, free. You and your associates have already done enough damage.”

Templar grinned wickedly. “Be a hero!” he whispered and tossed the explosive over the railing.

Erik swore while firing two rounds into the assassin before he dropped his guns and dove over the railing. He had no choice but to change; he willed the metamorphosis and felt his body grow and expand while he plummeted the sixty feet toward the unyielding dance floor.

His Esper hybrid form reached out, plucked the explosive from the air and cradled it into his body smothering the bomb with his armored skin. The device detonated as both Esper and bomb fell to the floor with a horrid crash. The sound of the explosion was deafening, and the great hall filled with thick black and gray smoke. Guests screamed as the smoke rose higher. Beneath the smoke two aqua blue eyes burned bright with an inhuman intensity. In his hybrid state, Erik stood apart from the crowd, unscathed by the powerful detonation. His expensive tailored clothes hung in shreds from his massive body.

Erik reached out his hand, beckoning for his weapon. The protective blister that enveloped Monique LaSalle flowed back into the shape of a cylindrical staff. It flew across the floor and settled into its master’s powerful hands.

Still in his hybrid state, Erik glanced over the crowd. The guests were stepping further back, staring at the silver warrior in awe. He projected a message to Monique.
You’re okay. Come over here to me. I won’t hurt you
.

“Erik?” she asked. She recognized the voice inside her head as his. “Oh my God, it’s you!” She ran to him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

We’re going back up. Hold on tight.
He leapt up suddenly and easily ascended over the top railing to where the hired assassin lay wounded in an ever-expanding pool of blood.

Ralph Templar looked up at the massive silver being and shrieked.

Erik picked the assassin up with one hand and dragged him over to Monique.

Look at her, you son of a bitch!
He shouted the words into Templar’s mind.
L
ook into the face of the girl you so eagerly wanted to kill.

“Why?” Monique asked the assassin in frightened whispers. “Why do you want to kill me?” Monique looked confused, sad.

“Money,” the sniper replied, his voice losing strength. “A great deal of money – nothing more and nothing less.”

“Who paid you to kill me?” Monique asked, anger surfacing in her voice.

“I cannot tell you, child.”

“You must tell me.” The assassin remained silent. “Please I have no desire to live my life with a bounty on my head.” The assassin still didn’t answer but averted his gaze. Monique glanced at Erik, who nodded. He had the information he sought.

The threat was not coming from the Arabs, or from anywhere in France; it was coming from somewhere inside the United States’ government. The culprit’s name was vaguely familiar, but not enough that he could trace it to a direct source.

Erik heard the approaching footsteps of their security team. He was about to change back to his human form to keep his secret safe when he detected a subtle presence; one he’d never felt before. The Esper part of him responded to that presence with confusion, yet his human half seemed drawn to it.

Erik shook his head from the distraction and looked around. He spotted René, Jean-Luc and three of the Arab operatives. The five men stopped in their tracks as they spotted his silver form. Two of the Arabs raised their weapons and spoke in panicked Arabic.

“Put your guns down!” René ordered.

Erik released Ralph Templar then rushed for the only open window – but his massive frame was too big for the opening. The warrior punched his way through the wood and brick then leapt out forty feet to the next rooftop. He quickly vanished into the Paris night.

* * * *

René and Jean-Luc approached Monique.

“Child, are you all right?” René asked.

“I’m fine. He saved me, René. He saved all of us. He withstood three bullets that were meant for me and then that bomb.”

René stared at the shattered wall, trying to comprehend the sheer physical force required to pummel through the reinforced brick and concrete that sheathed the outside of the building. He looked back at Monique. “I saw him change when he leapt over the wall to catch the explosive. What exactly is he? Is he even human?”

Monique shrugged her shoulders. “He told me he was just different. I don’t really care. He saved my life again.”

“Agreed.” René nodded. “He is probably embarrassed at being seen in that form. That must be why he fled. Come, mademoiselle, let’s get you cleaned up and back to safety. God only knows what else could possibly happen tonight.”

Monique looked through the gaping hole in the wall. What had her guardian found inside the assassin’s head? What would drive him off into the night?

“René, he will come back for my tour, won’t he?”

“Child, after what happened this evening, I don’t think your papa will let you out of his sight.” René also knew that these events would make the world press in a matter of hours. There were dozens of reporters and photographers on the floor of the great hall. Whatever manner of being, Erik Knight was would soon be flashed across dozens of cable news networks as well as the Internet. The Paris papers would have a field day with these last events. It wasn’t every day a seven-foot silver creature takes down a terrorist, absorbs a bomb blast then pounds its way through a reinforced wall to disappear into the night.

René now assumed that the Americans had assigned Knight to this duty precisely because of his unusual ability. The specialist also assumed that his powers were a closely guarded secret. Unfortunately, Erik Knight’s cover was now officially blown. The media would televise whatever footage they had available and run with the story over and over again.

The president would do his best to squelch the coverage, but there were simply too many press reporters at the function as well as scores of eyewitnesses. Try as he might, President LaSalle would not be able to stop the release of the footage.

René looked around at the carnage left behind; the remaining Arab force had encircled the body of Sarina Fahaad. René was reluctant to approach the men, not knowing what to say. One of the men gently lifted her body and placed her on a nearby couch. The Arab placed her arms in a position of repose and dignity. Then the man placed a call on his cell phone while two others approached René and Jean-Luc.

“We will take our leave of this place now.”

René nodded, sighing. “You have my sincerest condolences, sir. We didn’t expect anything like this to occur. Ms. Fahaad was a brave woman; she had my admiration and respect.”

The Arab nodded and averted his gaze. “We will find out who is responsible. We have transportation on its way for her and our fallen brother.”

“I’ll inform security to ensure they’ll be granted admittance immediately.” René extended his hand to the Arab. “I don’t have the words to properly express my gratitude for your bravery and my condolences for your loss.”

The Arab shook the Frenchman’s hand.

“Thank you.” He gestured to the remaining men. They carried Sarina and fallen brother toward the front the stairway.