The Anathema (51 page)

“Then maybe you should find yourself a new boss,” Alistair suggested helpfully.

“Again, I will have to disappoint you. Though not as much, I hope, as you have disappointed me.”

“Don’t take it personally, Gerald,” Alistair said softly, almost apologetically. “Do yourself a favor and back down. Everyone knows you used up the last of your power binding Mitsuru all those years ago. That’s why you retired to teach. How are you going to stop me without a protocol?”

“It was never my job to stop you,” Mr. Windsor said dryly. “All I was instructed to do was to distract you until Miss Aoki could arrive.”

“Oh, please,” Alistair laughed. “You don’t actually expect me to… oh, no. Oh, dear. Hello, Mitzi.”

Alistair probably meant to turn around. Alex guessed that was what he intended to do, before Mitsuru came out of the shadows behind him, an enormous knife held in a reversed grip, edge out, slashing at his unprotected side. Alistair sighed and stepped casually out of the way. Alex was confused for a moment, and then he remembered with a terrible, sinking feeling that Alistair was a powerful telepath, capable of reading Mitsuru’s intentions before she moved. Unless she was much faster than Alistair was, she would be incapable of hitting him.

“Mitzi,” he said, moving his head to the side of an ice-pick style stab. “I was hoping we would have an opportunity to talk. Naturally, I thought that you would join us, once you saw how much of what we’re trying to do makes sense. Can we talk this over?”

“Don’t call me that name,” Mitsuru hissed, her hair wild and disheveled, her face contorted with rage. She kicked at his midsection, and then followed up with her blade, moving forward the whole time, striking and hunting for openings. “Never call me that again.”

“Mitsuru,” Alistair said urgently, stepping backwards so the knife passed just centimeters from his chest. “Mitzi, calm down. No one was actually trying to kill you. That was for show. They were supposed to take care of Alice and Xia, not you.”

Mitsuru threw a leg kick, but without any real force behind it, and in return caught a right hand from Alistair to the forehead that she didn’t manage to duck. She brought up her left knee into the meat of his thigh, but he slapped it aside. Mitsuru had to scramble to parry a knee of his own that he threw on the opposite side. Stepping past it, moving inside, she drove the point of her knife forward with both hands, aiming for his solar plexus, but he drifted, frustratingly out of reach of the trembling point of her blade. Mitsuru stepped back and gasped for air.

“Get ready, now,” Gerald said, in a low voice, the air around him crawling with faint white sparks, here and then gone again, so fast that Alex couldn’t decide for sure if they were really there. “When I say go, you two run inside, and don’t stop until you get to the third floor, middle staircase. Rebecca’s in the third room from the stairwell.”

Mitsuru and Alistair continued to fight, Alistair dodging and counterstriking, keeping up his constant patter, while Mitsuru’s strikes grew increasingly wild and desperate. She threw a kick at his head and he caught her leg in mid-strike, then he sent her sprawling backwards, very nearly flipping her over. If he had followed her down, Alex knew from instincts pounded into him in the Program, it probably would have ended there. Then again, he also knew that if Mitsuru were actually going one-hundred percent, Alistair never would have been able to toss her so easily.

Alistair, apparently, did not know that. Apparently, he also didn’t see the angry black man that had quietly emerged from the building behind him, tattoos pulsing with violet light.

“Look, Mitzi, this is completely unnecessary…”

Alex couldn’t figure out how Alistair could miss the violet pulse that presaged Michael’s attack. A bolt of purplish light tore through the air to connect with Alistair’s back, and his face contorted in agony when it made contact, so that made everything seem worth it.

For a moment.

Then Alistair laughed cheerfully from a few feet away, while a light fixture disintegrated at the spot where Michael had aimed his protocol. No one said anything, Alistair’s grin daring them to try.

“Can we please stop this nonsense? None of you are capable of stopping me, and I think we all know that. Now, if we could talk this thing out, I think you would all see that a transition in power would be to your benefit...”

Mitsuru grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back so that she could slit his exposed throat. She drew her knife across his jugular, so fast that Alex never even saw any blood.

It made no difference. There was no body to hit the ground in front of her. To Mitsuru’s credit, she realized what had happened, and tried to move to avoid what she knew must be coming, but it was impossible. Alistair appeared behind her, his arms wrapping around her throat before she had the time to react. He pulled the choke tight, ignoring her frantic kicks and elbows, cutting off the flow of blood to the brain. Michael ran to help her, but it was over in seconds. Alistair set her neatly on the ground.

“You bastard,” Michael said, spearing Alistair with his shoulder, driving forward from his thighs and his back, his arms out wide. Alistair was lifted completely off his feet, and Michael caught him before he could hit the ground, grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming him, neck first, into the sidewalk.

Despite Alex’s screamed warnings, Michael didn’t seem to realize that it was Gerald Windsor he was attacking until after he drove him into the concrete, breaking his shoulder with a sickening certainty.

“Oh, no!” Michael cried out in horror. “Gerald! I’m so sorry...”

He didn’t have long to be sorry. Alistair used a chunk of concrete to the skull to make certain of that.

“What is it that you people have against speech? It’s the foundation of civilization, you know,” Alistair said, breathing hard and rubbing his hands together, “All of this violence is completely unnecessary. Oh, wait. Except for Katya. I’m afraid you are far too dangerous to let live, and not nearly useful enough to recruit. Terribly sorry...”

Alex had no idea what Alistair planned to do to Katya, who was crouched beside Mr. Windsor, bandaging his head with more tenderness than he had seen Katya show anyone. He stepped firmly in Alistair’s path, water from the puddle he stood in seeping through his sneakers, determined not to find out.

“I get it now,” Alex said, focusing all his anger, all his frustration, on the man in front of him. “I understand why you wouldn’t let me see Rebecca. It’s the catalyst effect, right? My protocol would have enhanced her powers, and she could wake herself up.”

“Maybe,” Alistair said, amused. “I’m afraid that’s purely rhetorical at this point.”

“’Fraid not,” Alex said, walking toward Alistair. “I’m going in there, and I’m going to wake Rebecca up. Care to try and stop me?”

“Alex!” Katya yelled from somewhere behind him. “Have you gone insane? Let me handle this.”

“She’s right, you know,” Alistair said conversationally, walking toward Alex as casually as if he intended to shake his hand. “Did you see what I did to your teachers? And I wasn’t even trying hard. Katya Zharova has some real training, at least. She might last all of a few seconds against me. You, Alex? Well, I don’t want to embarrass you...”

“Go ahead and try,” Alex encourage, opening the Black Door and attempting to freeze Alistair’s horrible brain.

“Nice try,” Alistair said, from the top of a nearby rock pile. “But I’m not impressed with your protocol. You do realize that you’ll never hit me, right? I can always make you think I’m somewhere else. That’s how telepathy works.”

Alex aimed for his head again, breaching the Ether and letting in the terrible cold. Alistair appeared to his side, and before he could react, he slammed one knee into Alex’s chest, dropping him instantly into the water at their feet. It was all he could do to roll away as if he was on fire, putting several feet of distance between them, much to Alistair’s amusement.

“Congratulations, Alex,” Alistair laughed. “That was definitely the most ridiculous way anyone has tried to get away from me. Are we done here?”

“Not quite,” Alex said, dragging himself to his feet, one arm across his chest.

“Give me a break,” Alistair said, snarling and taking a step forward. “This is...”

Alistair never actually gave his opinion. Because he slipped on the ice beneath him and went crashing down, landing on his elbows and backside, and then yelling out in pain and surprise. Alex had realized quickly that he wasn’t going to be able to hit Alistair. So, all he could do, he reasoned, was stand in a puddle and then wait for Alistair to hit him. Even telepaths can slip on ice.

Alex jumped for Alistair, and they scrambled on the splintering ice. It was ugly, and his knees cried out as they cracked against the ice, but Alex came out on top, pinning Alistair’s midsection with his legs while Alistair struggled to find purchase against the slick ground. Alex straightened his back to create distance, and then started to batter Alistair around the head and shoulders with fists and elbows, moving quickly to avoid getting tied up.

It worked. Alistair rolled and made it halfway to his feet, then they slipped from underneath him again. Alex hit him full force with his left elbow, dragging the point across his forehead to break it open. Alistair fell back onto the ice with Alex on top of him, struggling to drive his thumbs into his blood-smeared eyes. Alex leaned forward, putting all of his weight on his thumbs, and then, somehow, he fell right
through
Alistair, his hands pushing against the frozen ground beneath him, his head surrounded by a cloud of ashes and burning embers.

“What the fuck?”

The ashes and sparks whirled around in a tight knot, defying the wind to collect on the other side of the plaza, coalescing into something that looked like Alistair, but reminded Alex of the ash bodies at Mount Vesuvius. Fire crackled and glowed where the eyes and mouth should have been.

“Not bad, Alex,” Alistair said, his voice emerging from the cloud of sparks. “I underestimated you.”

“No fair,” Alex said, pulling himself up out of the frozen mud. “I had you.”

“You didn’t, actually, but you are better than I expected. I hadn’t planned on showing my new form off so soon. I’d like to make sure you never tell anyone about it. But I’m afraid that I’m needed elsewhere at the moment. Bye for now, Alexander. Don’t think I will forget...”

Like that, where Alistair’s voice had been, there was nothing more than a few flakes of ash carried away by the wind.

“Well, I sure didn’t see that coming,” Katya said, helping Alex’s to his feet. “That was a good idea, though, freezing the ground underneath him. You might actually have some promise after all...”

“What was that he turned into? What is going on with these people?”

“One thing at a time, alright?” Katya said, taking him by the shoulders and leading him gently to the infirmary’s side entrance. “That’s the key to surviving, Alex. One thing at a time.”

* * *

Katya had to lead him by hand to the elevator, and he was halfway up before he could see anything other than purple dots. He still needed her help when they got to third floor.

“Man, you are a hassle,” Katya complained, not sounding particularly upset. “You know, in a couple of minutes you are going to have a really big problem.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked, wishing he didn’t have to hold on to her hand to keep from walking into the walls, but in the dim hallway, lit only by the red emergency strip lighting running along the wallboard, he couldn’t see anything at all. “What’s that?”

“Well, we’ll be finished in a minute,” Katya said cheerfully. “That means that shortly you are going to have to either back up all that big talk about going to find Eerie, or you’re going to have to swallow the lot of it. You could maybe just
say
you were going to, and then go hide somewhere in the woods until it’s all over, instead, but the telepaths would figure it out eventually…”

“Katya, seriously, shut up,” Alex said sternly. “I keep telling you, I’m going to do it. But…”