I Am Titanium (Pax Black Book 1) (27 page)

The small black jar had been set out for him, along with his other tools.

Carefully, Terkun’shuks’pai made the tea.

The steam rose in dark clouds and contained many things: the scent of sorrow, as bitter and delectable as chocolate; the smoked, wet oak leaves of regret; the oily sweetness of blossoming anger; the spicy vinegar of hate.

He whisked it longer than was necessary, breathing in the steam.

He poured it carefully into a cup, raised it to his lips, and sipped. Grimaced.

Outside, the darkness within the cave rippled…

Then, in a corner of the teahouse, near the ground, a small tear appeared.

Pax’s hamster ball was no more than a faint, blue haze far below him, splashing a long, faint ripple along the waves. He’d dropped off the cruise ship without trouble: he hadn’t let them see him. The fires on St. Lucia seemed to have burned down; at least, fewer orange sparks showed against the horizon and less smoke.

Maybe Scarlett had taken care of everything. Maybe he could catapult himself into outer space and relax for a while. When this was all over he was going to build himself a secret base where nobody, not even Terry, could find him. And then he was going to find a way to find Terry. And hurt him. Badly.

The sky was clear, and the moon was rising in the east, shining down over the devastation.

The northern end of the island still held a few houses and trees just past a white, crescent-shaped beach. Rich people’s mansions. The beach was packed with flashlights and torches, and echoed with dance music. The air reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and weed.

He rolled up onto the beach, bouncing gently along the tops of people’s heads as though he were crowd surfing at some concert. People screamed and pushed at the ball or rushed away from it. He ignored them and kept rolling. A few gunshots went off. The bullets probably hurt the shooters—or, more likely, innocent bystanders—more than they hurt his shield.

Pax was too busy to worry about it.

He rolled off the beach and up the side of the island, bouncing gently on top of the remaining trees, buildings, and power lines. The destruction of the island seemed to have stopped.

Scarlett must have been able to control the rest of the spores after all.

The town just past the beach was a ragged wasteland of half-destroyed buildings, disintegrating roads, slimy goop, and falling flakes of half-burnt paper. Beyond the town, the monsters had eaten
everything
. Even the dirt.

He heard no sound of birds or even insects.

He rose higher.
Scarlett?

I’m in a pool on top of the ridge. They’re starting to get away from me, Pax. There’s just too many of them.

He bounced over the surface of the ugly, pockmarked ground, scanning for her. Trying to find her by following the strongest concentrations of negative energy. Just up ahead—

A high-speed aircraft tore through the sky. Following the jet was a flash of bright light and a deep
whump
.

It had come from the beach.

A fireball rolled up the valley, orange and yellow and blood-red. As the fireball rose, it developed a crust of black smoke. A layer of smoke blew across the ocean off the beach.

The air roared from the explosion.

Pax dropped his shield and landed on the bare rock before the wind could push him off the island. He blinked back involuntary tears as he looked at the smoking remains where the party had been.

The wind kicked sand and loose pebbles across his feet.

We just got bombed, didn’t we?
Scarlett sounded angrier than before and tired.
Fuck, Pax. I can’t hang on to these things. I don’t even have all of them. The bigger ones… I couldn’t hold them and the spores, too. I sealed them inside a dead volcano at the other end of the island. I think they’re building something.

Pax turned away from the destruction at the other end of the island. Scarlett was close, just over the ridge—

He froze.

He was looking down at a pool of negative energy, just like the one at the North Pole. Not a big one. One just about the size of Scarlett. Or maybe a little bigger.

The fuck, Scarlett?

I couldn’t hold all these things and stay human-looking,
she said.

You’re a fucking puddle of ooze.

Find a way to destroy these things. Then I’ll worry about putting my makeup on and doing my hair.

Another jet was coming from the northwest. Whoever was sending jets at them was going to bomb this island until it melted into slag.

Get the spores ready to move,
he said.
We’ll use the jet to burn them out.

Well, that’s cold,
Scarlett answered.
Sure you’re not becoming like me?

Pax didn’t bother replying. He searched for the next jet.
Half a minute more.

The negative energy rippled and bulged upward, a sloppy sphere. The sides swelled and then smoothed, as the spores within the ball tried to explode outward.

I can’t hold it for thirty seconds.

You have to.

I can’t.

He threw a shield up and tightened it until it was touching the surface of the ball.

The negative energy split, and spores exploded out of it, filling his shield with a dark pink cloud. The negative energy passed through his shield as if it weren’t even there, flopping back down in its puddle.

Ugh. God, it’s good to get those out. They make me feel sick.

The next jet was getting closer. The sound of its flight was rising in pitch quickly.

His shield rose in the air. The moon was higher now and turned the side of the shield into a swirling, dark pink pearl.

The jet came into sight.

Pax floated the ball of spores in the air, crossing the jet’s path.

The jet cut through the air above him. Its wing smashed into the side of the bubble—and stuck.

Pax threw another shield around both the jet and the spores and then dissolved the inner shield.

The plane simultaneously lost its ability to maneuver, contact the outside world, and avoid the heat of its jets. The shield rippled with heat and fire. Pax let it fall toward the island. It wasn’t like he had to worry about what it would hit when it fell.

Before it hit the ground, the bombs went off.

His shield glowed bright, throwing a faint blue cast across the barren island. It was brighter and larger than before. The brightest moonlight he could imagine.

It was more energy than he knew what to do with.

His shield hit the ground and burst, popping like a bubble.

Heat and light and radiation blasted across him, throwing him tumbling over the island.

A nuke? They sent a fucking nuke?
He let the force of the explosion carry him out above the ocean, threw up a shield, and bobbed on the surface of the water. The rumbling in the air went on and on. A burning mushroom cloud rose over the island. It looked unreal.

The robot towered over Julie, smelling of ozone, grease, and blood. Behind it, Ms. Jance was trying to get back up on her feet, one hand braced against the wall. Her knees were bent inward against each other, her ankles leaning out.

“N–Julie,” she said. “It’s time for us to go.”

“I’m not going,” Julie said.

“We have to.”

“Why?” She gripped her wheels.

“Because it’s not safe.”

“I am going to listen to what the robot has to say. The
thing
that’s pretending to be my son has to be stopped. Not to mention that
girl
.”

“That robot killed Al. And Richard.”

Julie shrugged. “I don’t know them. Maybe they attacked it, and it had to kill them because they wouldn’t listen.”

Ms. Jance gaped at Julie for a moment and then started limping down the hallway toward a set of emergency stairs. Ms. Jance’s ankles wobbled like a sick dog’s. After a few steps, she kicked off her heels and walked barefoot to the exit door. She leaned on the bar on the exit door.

It was locked.

“Let her go,” Julie murmured. “She’ll just be a distraction.”

“When a human is dead, it is less of a distraction,” said the robot. “She will contact other humans, and we will have more humans than are necessary.”

“You’re right,” Julie said, “but alerting the other humans may be exactly what we want. If we’re going to fight these… astral beings, we may need as many distractions as we can get.”

“I will notify the humans later, when appropriate.”

“Ms. Jance,” Julie called. “Sit down and don’t be distracting, or the robot will kill you.”

Ms. Jance turned her back on the door and slid down it until her legs stuck out. One of her bare feet tore through her stocking, which bunched up around her ankle and slowly crept up her calf. Her chest shook, but no noise came out of her mouth.

Julie looked back up at the cameras under the cage that was the robot’s head. She was abruptly aware of her very human need to make eye contact. “What do you want from me? My experience is with medicine, not that woo-woo stuff Pax was messing around with.”

“I am working on developing an energy weapon that will be able to disrupt astral material and energy,” the robot said, still using that near-monotone female voice. “I am using documentation on the astral plane Pax left on his computer.”

“That’s fine,” Julie said. “But it still doesn’t answer my question. What do you want from
me
?”

“The astral beings recorded and placed a copy of your son’s spirit into some inert astral material. The astral material subsequently achieved self-awareness, using the copy of your son’s spirit as a template.”

“It thinks it’s Pax. I get that. Go on.”

“Your notes show you are researching how to prevent illnesses like your son’s. You did not discover this. Instead, you discovered how to manipulate spiritual energy, using certain applications of magnetic waves, for destructive purposes.”

She said nothing.

“This is very close to what you called ‘that astral crap’ earlier, Dr. Black, whether you know it or not. You will identify the parts of the astral material that have been patterned after your son and create a magnetic resonance wave to destroy them. The rest of the material you will leave for me to manipulate.”

Ms. Jance was watching, open-mouthed. She had clearly heard every word.

Julie decided to worry about that later. “Assuming it can be done… how will I know which is which?”

“We will go to the body of your son and practice.”

The moon was all the way up. A haze of smoke still lingered; the moonlight had turned it into a pale, transparent mist. The air reeked of ozone. The loudest sound was the Caribbean crashing against the shore.

There was a kind of purity to it.

Moonlight on radiation, how romantic
,
Pax thought as he rolled back to the island. If only I had a girlfriend who wasn’t insane or stabbing humanity in the back, I’d hold her hand and walk across the half-melted, burning rock
.

He climbed the Hill where Scarlett had been. The pool was empty.

Scarlett?

Heading toward the volcano.

In the distance, another aircraft was coming in. Pax landed on a boulder and listened. He wanted to hear what they were saying.

A thought made it possible, and Pax found himself able to hear and understand the radio waves.

A strained, piping woman’s voice was saying, “…if you do not return to U.S. airspace for landing, you will be shot down.”