Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (17 page)
Read Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera Online
Authors: Kelly Meding
“And what of the arrested Banes? Are they active as well?” Dahlia said the name as if uttering a black curse.
“From what we know, yes, many are active.” A hushed murmur spread across the crowd. “However, the government built a sturdy and powerful prison on Manhattan Island, and we are confident it will continue to hold.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Tempest said. He stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with me. A gentle breeze surrounded us both and ruffled my hair, a well-timed special effect I’d applaud him for later.
“So you’re active now because they got their powers back first?” a new voice shouted. The man stood a few yards from Dahlia, hair hidden under a hat and eyes obscured by sunglasses. With our full attention, he finished his query with, “Or is it vice versa?”
I narrowed my eyes in his general direction, but felt no compunction to answer his question. He’d spoken out of turn. “And you are?”
“Alan Bates, Channel Four,” he said.
To Dahlia I said, “Miss Perkins, you can thank Mr. Bates for ending this interview. Good luck with your story.”
A melody of angry shouts and pointed questions followed
me as I walked away from the press. Gage kept pace by my side, fighting away laughter.
“You played them pretty well, I think,” Tempest said. “I have a feeling Alan Bates will become the least-liked person at Channel Four after this.”
“His question was out of line,” I said. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to answer it and sound like an idiot, since we don’t have a clue.”
“We should call the copter back in,” Onyx said.
“Tired of the spotlight already?” Tempest asked.
“I am not in this for the attention, Ethan.”
“And I am?”
“Are you?”
“Cameras, boys,” I hissed. “Smile now, argue later.”
They canned it. Only Tempest pasted on a pleasant grin. Something was eating Onyx, but this wasn’t the time or place to sort it out.
I snatched my Vox. “Bird One, this is Trance.”
“Where can you pick us up?”
“We’ll be there in a—”
The ground trembled. A distant explosion belched smoke and fire into the southern sky—too far to see the source or feel the concussion, but close enough to know it wasn’t a small detonation.
“We should check that out,” Gage said. “See if we can—”
Three identical pulses tore from our Voxes, a sound so plaintive it gave me chills. I recognized it from my childhood,
on the rare occasion my parents were home and not on call, a tone sent out to every active Ranger Vox that meant one thing: security breach at HQ.
“Onyx, you can get back faster than we can,” I said.
Without reply, he stripped, transformed back into raven form, then took to the sky. Tempest snatched up his discarded jumpsuit. Our transportation waited half a block away; we ran. The copter seemed to take hours to arrive at HQ, where a devastating sight greeted us.
Thick smoke spiraled up from the remains of the Medical Center’s top story. The entire floor was reduced to rubble, fire, and black haze, forcing our helicopter to hover nearby. I gaped, the destruction freezing my mind and instincts. I couldn’t bark orders or decide on a course of action. We’d been attacked in the one place we’d assumed was safe.
A warm hand squeezed my wrist; Gage’s eyes met mine. The expectation on his face shattered my hesitation. “We need to get down there,” I said.
Tempest lowered us to the ground using his wind tunnel method, complete with the nauseating sensation of a six-story free fall. Two nurses burst through the front doors and raced past us, babbling about a sudden explosion and fire alarms.
Onyx was nowhere to be seen. We charged inside, and it occurred to me that while I’d exited the Medical Center several times, this was the first time I was walking in on my own two feet. The odd knowledge carried me toward the emergency stairs, fear and worry squelching beneath my anger. Someone had attacked our home; they would pay.
The first three floors of the building housed labs and research facilities. It might seem strange to not have the Emergency Unit on the first floor like a regular hospital, but Ranger teams often came and went via copter, so the closer to the roof the better, which put the EU on the fourth floor, where I’d spent my time. Five was offices and long-term care rooms; sixth floor, more offices and labs. Dr. Seward’s office was on the fifth floor, and so was Frost’s room.
Gage grabbed my hand, and I pulled him along. He didn’t need support, just guidance as he listened while racing blindly up the stairs.
“I hear voices,” he said, a little out of breath. “Seward is still up there, and someone else, a woman I don’t …”
At the fifth floor landing we stopped, blocked from proceeding any higher by a pile of debris. I pushed against the door. It was stuck. And very, very cold.
“The hell?” I said.
“It’s Janel.” Gage’s voice had an unexpected hitch. “Specter has Frost under his control.”
Frost
A
re you sure, Gage?” I asked, for them as much as myself. I didn’t doubt his certainty. We were facing one of our own, possessed by our enemy. Everyone had to understand the score.
“Yes. She’s saying something to Dr. Seward about”—Gage’s eyes widened—“Christ, she’s got Marco.”
With a trembling hand, I formed a softball-size orb and hurled it at the frozen door, where it shattered into slivers of metal and ice with a pop like a balloon bursting. Tempest charged through the door first, and I followed with an orb in each hand. A piercing scream greeted us, echoing down the corridor from someplace out of sight.
The floor and walls were coated with an inch of ice. Tempest slipped, flailed his arms, and fell flat on his back. I reached for him and lost my own balance. I hit the slippery ground on my hands and knees, scraping my palms raw. The scream came again, fueling both my determination and fury.
“It’s Marco,” Gage said. He remained upright, carefully balanced on the treacherous floor.
I rose to my knees, re-created the orbs, and lobbed them across the surface of the ice like mini bowling balls. They melted a swath down the middle and created a narrow running track.
Gage hooked his arms around my waist and pulled me up. Tempest stood on his own steam, a little wobbly from his wipeout, and took point down the path. At the end of the icy corridor, we hit another dead end: a wall of ice. It covered the next corridor like a waxed paper seal—translucent enough to see through, but too thick to simply hit and shatter.
Beyond it, Dr. Seward sagged against the wall, hugging his left arm to his chest. Blood poured from his nose and over his chin. In the center of the hallway, Frost loomed over Marco’s prostrate form. As we stood there, a miniature snowstorm engulfed them both. Ice adhered to Marco’s exposed skin. Frost’s eyes glowed an unearthly yellow-orange, and her frail, battered body swayed on the verge of collapse.
“You might want to duck,” I said.
One orb from each hand and as much power as I could muster went sailing toward the ice wall. It shattered with a soft boom, sending ice and snow flying. Tiny bits pricked my face and neck. Frigid wind whipped around us as Frost redirected her blizzard.
Tempest countered with his own windstorm and the battling elementals sent out enough counter-feedback to knock each other for a loop. Tempest flew backward and hit the wall, sending splinters up and down the icy coating. Frost sailed sideways, right through an open doorway.
I slid a few times before giving up, and just let myself glide up next to Marco. Beyond the snow covering his mostly
naked body, I couldn’t see any specific injuries, and that worried me. Especially with those earlier screams. But he was breathing and that’s what mattered.
Gage slipped past me—very literally—and grabbed the doorframe for support. He peered inside and was suddenly skidding backward, hit square in the chest with a block of ice the size of a basketball. He didn’t even scream—just hit the floor and lay still.
“Cipher!” I screamed.
“She’s fighting him,” Seward said, his voice high-pitched, unsteady. “She’s trying so hard not to hurt us, but she’s too weak.”
Frost was in a losing battle with Specter. She’d been half dead when Renee and William brought her here; she didn’t have the strength to resist Specter for long.
“You have to kill her,” Seward said.
“I can’t do that.” Just the idea of it horrified me.
“You have to. He won’t give her up. When the host dies, Specter is weakened and has to return to his own body. You have to kill her to drive him out.”
My stomach churned. Bile scorched the back of my throat. “I can’t; she’s one of us.”
“She’ll kill you, Trance.”
As though to prove his point, a scattering of icicle shrapnel flew out of the open doorway. Deadly, sharp icicles. They peppered the far wall just above my head, cracking the coating of ice already in place.
I backed up, slowly drawing up to my feet. Frost appeared in the doorway, her eyes alight with Specter’s unholy power. Blood dribbled from her nose, down her lips and chin, staining
the collar of her hospital gown. Dark smudges discolored the flesh beneath her eyes, and her sallow skin seemed stretched too thin. She was already dying from Specter’s mental intrusion; my attack would make little difference.
To her.
I recalled the wounded girl William had carried across Central Park, the way she’d blasted Mayhem with icicles and saved us for a little while. This was how I thanked her. “I’m so sorry, Janel,” I said.
Something mournful sparked in her eyes as the briefest glimpse of the girl I remembered peeked through. But Specter was too strong. Her eyes spat a barrage of hailstones. I erected a force shield easily, with less effort than before, and they pinged off. Frost’s face twisted in fury, a terrifying combination of Specter’s and her own, and she shot more icicles. Same thing. Warm power tingled through my fingertips, the only sense I had of its potency. Too many of those, and I wouldn’t be able to maintain the shield.
A shield that protected myself, Marco, and Seward. Gage lay outside of my perimeter. Frost noticed this the moment I did and shifted her attention to him. The instinct to protect flared to deadly life. I dropped the shield and threw the largest orb I could muster directly at her head. It exploded against her temple and threw her weak body backward, knocking Specter’s final ice blast off-target and freezing the far wall instead.
She hit the floor with a dull crack and lay still. I didn’t move. The sound of my own ragged breathing was met by the distinct plink-plunk of melting ice. In moments the corridor was awash in cold water. Frost’s spell was over, the effect of
her powers extinguished with her precious life. A life I’d taken.
I sat for a moment in the middle of the puddle, trembling, forcing my bubble of grief to keep moving, to go away until later. I could not lose it here. Not in front of the others.
“Trance?” Dr. Seward squatted in front of me, still holding his left arm. Pain and exhaustion radiated from his scrunched brow and pursed lips. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Come on, my dear, we need to help your teammates.”
“Six,” I said.
He frowned. “What?”
“Six dead, six of us left.”
Had Specter planned the explosion at the construction site, effectively removing us from the HQ so he could coordinate his attack? It was very possible. The events were too perfect to be coincidental. He came in while no one was guarding the store and struck at our heart, finishing what he’d started with Janel. Half of our numbers wiped out. Murdered.
“Come on, Trance, we’ll think about it later.”
Dr. Seward reached out with his good hand and wiped an errant tear from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I’d begun to cry and that shamed me into action. The gentle gesture changed my opinion of him. I decided then, surrounded by wounded friends and melting ice, that I trusted Angus Seward.
“Help Onyx,” I said.
I crawled across the floor to Gage’s body. His pulse hummed steadily beneath my fingers. I pressed gently against his chest. Nothing gave, no bones shifted. He was just knocked silly. Relief squeezed my heart and constricted my throat and colored the world a pale shade of lavender.
I blinked; the shaded vision was back. Not the best time for my powers to start going nutty again. No one’s immediate health concerned me more than Gage’s, Ethan’s and Marco’s. Specter had driven me to kill for a second time. I was determined there would not be a third.
“Trance?” Tempest limped toward me, favoring his right leg. The reddish-purple beginnings of a bruise colored the right side of his jaw. He stopped a few feet from Seward and Onyx. “What about the sixth floor? There’s still a fire up there.”
My hand tightened around Gage’s wrist. My irrational need to stay by his side and protect him battled my duty to this facility. If we didn’t get the fire under control, it could consume everything we were trying to rebuild.
“Go,” Dr. Seward said. “I’ll get help up here now that the threat is neutralized.”
This clinical description of Frost’s death rankled, but I channeled my annoyance into action and stood up, icy water dripping off my soaked jeans. The ceiling above snapped and groaned. I looked up, seeking whatever great force had made the sound.
A crack appeared in the tiles to my left and traveled down the corridor, splitting open like a fissure. The split ended just above Tempest. He gazed at it as though he’d never seen such a thing. I started to shout something—tell him to move his ass—when the ceiling opened up and dropped a cloud of debris on top of him. A maelstrom of plaster, metal, stone, and dust rained down until the air was filled with gray and I couldn’t see him anymore.
Medical Ward III
A
gent Rita McNally knocked before she entered the small scrub room. I tilted my head in her general direction, aware of her, even though my attention was fixed on the glass partition between this room and the next. She was a distraction. She could wait.
