Keystones: Altered Destinies (23 page)

Deklan decided to follow suit and run before Mutuari discovered him and appropriated his Keystone power. Deklan’s legs found new life and devoured the ground beneath him. Trees and bushes flashed by, but urgency faded with distance. Deklan paused to take stock of his situation and reorient himself relative to the Elevator.

A clipped British voice spoke in his ear, “You’re a long way from home, lad.”

Deklan whirled to find no one there, but these were the same words that Chain had spoken before tearing Deklan apart,, just as Mutuari now could with his stolen powers.
 

Shame burned cold on his face. Cowardice had been his most consistent trait since The Sweep, he realized. He had run from his problems in New York. He hadn’t warned other people aside from his parents and Susan. Now he was running from a homicidal Keystone who was only going to get more powerful.

Deklan’s fingers found the pistol that Slate had given him. A gunshot to the eyes, he thought, should be lethal. Maybe Mutuari wasn’t invulnerable after all.

Retracing the way he’d come, Deklan arrived at the tree behind which he’d originally cowered as a bastion of safety. Deklan’s heart stopped when he saw an empty space where the Zephyr should have been resting.

Scant minutes had passed since he’d left the blade behind. For someone to have taken it, a person would almost have to have been following him. Deklan looked around. The missing knife made him that much less confident. He’d been relying on having it to attack Mutuari. The idea of someone nearby with a Zephyr was not a pleasant one. He had to find Mutuari and rely on his gun.

The clearing behind was empty, but Deklan hoped that Mutuari hadn’t gone far. Confident that he would have seen him had Mutuari gone in the direction that Deklan had fled, he was left with only one option: head away from the terminal to pursue his quarry.

As Deklan jogged, he heard sobs and whimpers in the distance. He picked up his pace to a run as he homed in on the sounds.

As he burst into another clearing, his half-formed plans for taking Mutuari unawares evaporated. There stood Mutuari looming over a crying woman. For a moment Deklan thought it was Susan. For that moment he didn’t think.

His gun came up automatically, Mutuari’s head centered in his sights.

His finger pulled the trigger once, then again and again and again.

Each round found its mark and crashed against the back of Mutuari’s head.

Deklan watched, hopeful that it would be that easy, but was unsurprised when Mutuari turned to face him, his female victim abandoned. Small silver marks on the back of his head were the only indications of the bullets’ impact.

The scar on his face jumped out at Deklan. It was a melted imprint of a human hand inset into his cheek. “Seems we’re having a misunderstanding here,” said Mutuari. His friendly drawl accentuated the oddity of his metallic face. He raised a hand and fired links of chain at Deklan.

The glowing chains passed through the place where Deklan, having anticipated the attack, had stood before diving to the side. Another purple chain shot past, missing Deklan by only centimeters.

Throwing back his head and letting out a chilling laugh, Mutuari continued in his drawl, “You’ve come at just the right time. I really haven’t had a chance to try this out properly.”

A hailstorm of glowing chains surrounded Deklan, all missing him by just a little. Deklan knew that he couldn’t count on Mutuari’s inexperience to keep him safe. He had to get inside the tree line and hope that Mutuari would follow him.

Thought became action as Deklan again dove, this time out of the clearing and toward the refuge offered behind a tree. As he landed, his feet slipped on twisted and moss-covered roots. He tried to regain his balance by reaching for the tree’s trunk. As his left hand made contact with bark, a chain tore through the tree from the far side and sheared off two of Deklan’s fingers.

A scream tore through his throat as his eyes darted between his smashed hand and his severed fingers on the ground.

Just then a voice above him said, “Excuse me.” Turning his gaze upward, Deklan saw Mutuari’s ruined face set in a smile that sent cold daggers of terror down Deklan’s spine.

Drawing his gun from its holster, Deklan fired at the assassin’s right eye. Mutuari closed both eyes and turned his head, but not fast enough to prevent the bullet from pinging off to reveal a polished orb underneath the flesh.

Mutuari roared, but it sounded more like outrage than pain. His uninjured left eye burned with fury. “It’s time for this game to end,” he declared, raising both of his hands.

Deklan fired again at Mutuari’s face and dove between his legs. As Mutuari’s head jerked from the round’s impact, Deklan was able to pivot on the ground and spring toward Mutuari’s back. He pushed him forward and off balance, face down into the dirt.

Now atop his assailant, Deklan concentrated his weight on Mutuari’s shoulders and head. Mutuari’s hands flailed against the ground while he emitted muffled yells. Soon, however, he turned his hands palm-side up, firing purple energy that drew closer to Deklan with every blast.

Mutuari turned his head to the side and took a loud breath. Deklan shoved his gun’s muzzle between Mutuari’s gasping lips and emptied the clip in an attempt to choke the man with bullets.

Mutuari gagged for only a moment before grabbing the gun with both hands and pulling it from his mouth. The failed attempt left Deklan off balance. Mutuari dislodged him and rolled onto his side, where he spat out the slugs like wads of gum. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the firearm aside with his left hand and seized Deklan with his right. Knowing that he was back in control, he said slowly, “You have a power, don’t you?”

Deklan knew it wasn’t a question.

“I can feel it,” added Mutuari. “Now say goodbye.”

Vitality, an abundant energy he hadn’t been aware of previously, drained from Deklan. Its loss left him tired and aching. Pain flared anew. The sensation from his ruined hand became all-encompassing, leaving him gasping for breath as his throat constricted.

Mutuari clambered to his feet. “What are you?” he asked, pleasure evident on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good. You I need to leave alive, but I don’t need to leave you unhurt.” His foot crushed down on Deklan’s left hand.

Still lying on the ground, and despite the excruciating pain of his finger stumps, Deklan smiled wanly and said, “You’re not leaving me at all.”

“What?” replied a confused Mutuari.

Deklan watched Stalker’s shadow creep along the tree above them. “We’re both going to die,” he answered. It was time for one last gamble. If he died first, Mutuari would lose his power. Deklan grabbed Mutuari’s ankle.

As Stalker descended, darkness plunged over them. It was almost familiar, an empty world without objects or landmarks. This time, however, Deklan was not alone. He could still feel Mutuari.

While Deklan experienced the same pervasive cold as before, the cold stemming from his grip on Mutuari was worse. It felt like a malign entity reaching through his palm, up his arm, and searching for his heart and lungs to freeze them.

Suddenly a torrent of fire, like molten lead, surged through Deklan’s veins and arteries. It was his power now taken back from Mutuari. How or why he didn’t know and didn’t care. He had won by losing.

He didn’t know what Stalker did to his victims, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped one monster today. Deklan closed his eyes and let go.

Warm rays from the sun caressed his skin. Deklan lifted his head from the grass. Memory had returned, and he was alive.

He pumped a celebratory one-two punch at the sky, but his feeling of triumph dimmed with the jarring pain of the ragged stumps on his left hand. He hoped that with his recovered power of healing his two fingers would grow back on their own.

Deklan brought his left arm down so that his fist lay near the center of his chest, and he clasped his left wrist with his right hand. Then he sat up, hands still cradled against his torso. Next to him lay Mutuari, his flesh white and frozen. His lips formed a silent rictus of agony. Deklan was unsympathetic.

It was time to get to the Elevator.

Inspection

Jonny’s mind boggled as he took in the scope of the manufacturing facility. Lacey sat next to him, stunned into silence. Before beginning their inspection, they had discovered that large parts of Terra Ring Three in which they were interested could be opened to space travel.

Gaining entrance had been easy, almost as though the secrecy hadn’t been intended to last. They had flown a ship from Ring Two, matched velocity, and entered through an unguarded docking bay. Jonny had expected a bit more of a challenge.

There were tens of thousands of ships in various stages of completion. Surrounding these craft were workers in EVA suits swarming ant-like over their projects. It was impossible to see the far end of the construction yard, but this hangar was only one of many.

“Who had the clout to arrange this?” Jonny wondered aloud. “And how did we not know about it?”

Lacey’s voice was lower than usual, a clear sign of deep thought on her part. “Good questions. We need to speak to the foremen and find out how many of these ships are complete and who owns them. If they can’t be hired, I imagine they can be commandeered, though that is the option of last resort.”

Jonny realized that she was thinking out loud. He needed her to focus on him, and his involvement in these inspections, because his commission depended on Lacey’s assistance. “Are we going to check some of the other facilities?” he asked.

Lacey ignored Jonny as she used the screen in front of them to send notes back to the office with instructions and updated information on what they’d found. “Yes,” she then replied. “Definitely. I don’t believe that this is an isolated case, but we need to have more to go on.”

Seventeen work sites later, each of which Jonny and Lacey had determined to be focused on the production of gravity-capable craft, Lacey decided to halt their investigations. “We’ve seen enough.”

“What?” replied Jonny. “We’ve only begun to scratch the surface and. . . .”

Lacey cut him off abruptly with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That doesn’t matter. These work sites are all owned by companies with which we can liaise to determine the availability of these ships. We have other team members checking additional sites, and all of them have found the same sort of construction yards. None of us have found evidence of anything illegal, and the sooner we talk to the right people, the sooner we can draw up some contracts.”

“We’ve only visited sites that were accessible via docking bays. What about sites that we need to visit on foot?” Jonny protested, angling for a bigger role in the project.

Lacey made another slashing motion with her hand. “They’re not pertinent to the contracts.”

“Aren’t you
curious
?” He emphasized “curious” in a bid to keep Lacey going. Leaving now would be a wasted opportunity for greater profit margins.

Lacey shook her head and entered new instructions into the autopilot. “Not enough to distract myself from the biggest profit-taking opportunity that our firm has ever had, and frankly, Jonny, I outrank you. We’re heading back to the office now. We’ve been to seventeen different facilities owned by seventeen different companies, each of which was hired by a different shell corporation, yet each of them is manufacturing the same model of gravity-capable ship. I want you to track down how many additional sites are owned by these same corporations.”

Success! Jonny’s big payoff was assured.

Countdown to Departure

Elizabeth skittered through the terminal building via ducts hidden in the ceiling. There was no room or space that she couldn’t access in her search for small and dangerous animals that posed a significant threat to people.

As little as an hour ago she had been spread over much of the surrounding land in Boa Vista, protecting several hundred square blocks of land and ensuring that the only threats left were human predators.

Not that Elizabeth believed that human predators should be tolerated, but it was easy to find and kill renegade animals and difficult to assess the actions of people passing through her territory to determine whether they were good or bad.

Given additional time, she could have been more discriminating, but with circumstances being what they were Elizabeth had decided to focus exclusively on Keystone mammals that might attack people.

Just now, though, she wanted to speak with Cheshire. Drawing enough spiders together to form a living mound, Elizabeth merged their bodies, letting exoskeletons flow into each other to form her skin, eyes, organs, and features. This time she was a cute blonde girl.

The transformation was quick and painless. Elizabeth was amazed anew as she observed her metamorphosis from an undulating mound of arachnids.

A second mode of awareness or persona that she called Skitterling, more feral but somehow tamed, stayed behind and watched her brood as she assumed human form. This second awareness tickled at the back of her mind, continuing her hunt of venomous animals in a more chaotic fashion.

Elizabeth didn’t have long to wait before Cheshire arrived. Stepping out of an empty space, he looked her up and down, then did it again. A schoolboy grin lit his face. “We’re almost done here,” he said. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, pleased with the effect she had on him. It helped her put her disguise behind her. “Yes,” she replied. “I still don’t like your plan, though. It seems cruel.”

“It is, but he needs to know, and there are some things a person must experience firsthand.” His grin and tone were at odds with his words as he tried to wrap his arms around her.

Elizabeth held him off and forced his gaze up to hers. “You’re entirely confident of the outcome?” she inquired.

Cheshire sighed and licked his lower lip before answering. “Long-term? No, I’m not sure of anything. That’s what makes this so hard. Short-term? Yes, I can promise you that.”

She playfully tapped him on the nose. “I’ve spent my life keeping my impulses under control, not letting out the predator within. Everything that you’ve taught me has been about refinement. This plan of yours, I’m compelled to say, has no elegance.”