The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage (18 page)

And it was getting brighter.

Dread like death itself filled Ray then, as a profound understanding washed over him. This was familiar. So familiar.

The feeling of swelling, waxing one second and waning another, was what he had felt in Fairmont. Every beat of his heart brought a new height of power, the space between a momentary reprieve.

Brawner continued to beat him, but the fear gripping Ray almost tuned out the pain. Every shred of his willpower was spent on clamping down on his powers, forcing control on them. For the first time since his awakening, he felt that control slipping. It wasn’t beyond him yet, but at the rate the power grew, it wouldn't be long. Even now the energy squirmed and slithered, trying to find equilibrium through escape.

Teeth clenched so hard they felt about to break, Ray caught Brawner's foot in his hand. The resistance was unexpected, putting Ray's attacker off balance. Capitalizing on the moment of surprise, Ray pushed with all his might, using the leverage of his body against the building beneath him to force Brawner away.

It would only create space for a moment, but that was all Ray needed.

Brawner stumbled back to catch himself, putting him perhaps two feet away. Ray looked up at the man as Brawner glared down at him in surprise. Ray slapped his hand onto the roof, palm centered between Brawner's spread feet.

The roof vanished in a circle that stopped a little way beneath Ray's shoulder. Brawner hovered in midair for a fraction of a second as gravity asserted itself, then fell through to the floor below. Ray flopped himself over to the hole and looked down.

The thin light filtering down was barely sufficient to illuminate the man, but it was enough. Ray had no intention of letting Brawner—even now getting to his feet—come back up the stairs to threaten all of them. Ray squeezed tight on the growing energy inside him, letting out a trickle.

Another hole opened beneath Brawner, and it was not alone. Ray let the power flow for a few seconds, shaping it into a drill which cut perfect circles through eight floors. By the time Brawner hit the bottom, he would be in bad shape, or so Ray hoped.

The Surge continued to swell inside him, a raging flood threatening to breach its levees.

“Graysen!” he gasped, struggling to his knees.

She rushed to his side, joined by a limping Kovacs.

“Goddamn,” Kovacs said. “You look like you were put through a blender.”

“No time,” Ray said, hands clenched into fists. “He injected me with something. It's making it hard to control my powers. Almost impossible. They're getting stronger.”

Kovacs stared at Ray, his eyes hard. “What should we do?”

For all the determination in the man's face, his tone carried regret. Ray found it in him to smile.

“Don't know,” Ray said. “Whatever he did is going to make me explode, just like Fairmont. It's making me draw in more and more power. I don't have a lot of time...” He hesitated. “I'm not stupid. I know why you were put with me.”

Kovacs nodded, pulling his gun. “I don't want to. You know that.”

Ray shook his head. “If it meant saving thousands of lives, I'd let you do it in a heartbeat. My control is the only thing keeping the energy in check. If you kill me, I'm pretty sure it'll level the city.”

Kovacs flinched, letting the gun fall to his side. He blew out a breath. “So what do we do?”

Ray pointed to Graysen. “It's what
she
does, not us.” The young woman began shaking her head violently.

“I don't have any control,” she said. “I can't get both of us away safely.”

“You don't need to,” Ray said. “I just have to fall up.”

There was a second of doubt, and Ray saw the math working itself out in her head. It wasn't a hard problem to solve, not in the technical sense. One of the first lessons Ray had learned about the job—about being Next in this era—had happened before he was even an agent. He had seen Kit do what was needed to save many lives, no matter how much it tore her apart to do it.

In that brief span of time, Ray saw Graysen come to the same conclusion. She reached out and touched his shoulder.

The world flipped around, and Ray fell spinning into the sky.

Robinson sat calmly as the echoes of his voice faded over the plateau. Kit had listened to him talk for a long time, explaining how he had been stonewalled at every turn when trying to have Nunez brought to justice for his crimes. The majority claimed there was no proof linking Nunez to Fairmont, which was only true in the sense that such proof had been buried deep, far from Robinson's grasp. A bare handful, old friends of Robinson's, were honest enough to admit that no one wanted the scandal. Better a cover-up and a tragedy that could be used, instead of a deliberate act whose magnitude could destabilize the entire country.

Kit also appeared calm, though she was as far from it as she could be without hurting someone. “You've said you tried to take him down. That you couldn't. And that everything you've done as Secretary of the DSA has been to keep the peace. Do you know why I believe you?”

Robinson looked up, surprised. “I honestly didn't think you would, not after learning secrets I've kept.”

“It isn't because we have a history,” Kit said, her matter-of-fact tone as cutting as any insult. “That's done with, as far as I'm concerned. Any goodwill you've earned from me was used up tonight, when I didn't snap your neck and throw you over the edge for the vultures. I gave you a chance to explain because you earned that much. I believe you because I've been paying very close attention to you the last few hours.”

“What do you mean?” Robinson asked, clearly confused.

“I pushed my senses to the limit,” Kit said. “I've been listening to your heartbeat, watching your pulse beat in your neck. Looking at your mannerisms, your skin, how much you sweat. I can't measure your galvanic skin response, but there are little things I noticed that are almost as good. You've been straight with me.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Robinson asked. “Are we through here?”

“I'm telling you because your honesty got you a little more of that goodwill I was talking about. Before we leave, I have one question, and I before I asked it I wanted you to know I'd be able to tell if you're lying.”

Robinson swallowed, but nodded. “Ask.”

Kit met his eyes. “Are you planning to take me down for what I did tonight?”

The old man's eyebrows shot up, and he laughed. It was a deep belly laugh, a rarity. “Are you serious? Come on, Kitra, you know me better than that. I'm not thrilled you seem to have a small conspiracy going on here, but knowing what I've had to go along with, do you honestly believe I don't understand why you did this?”

He was being honest. Kit could tell, and knew that logically she should believe him, but the part of her brain stuck on his reaction had nothing to do with reason. “I took you from your home, kept you in the cold. Threatened to kill you.” She said it flatly, with no softened edges.

Robinson shrugged, hands out in a 'What do you want?' sort of gesture. “You thought I organized the deaths of a city full of people,” he said. “Hard to blame you for wanting answers. And so I've said it clearly; no, I won't tell anyone about this if you don't.”

He took a deep breath, holding out a hand to stop her from talking. “There is one more thing you should know before we head back to civilization—assuming you don't plan on leaving me for the birds.” He said it with a smile, but there was a smidgen of genuine concern.

“You get a pass,” Kit said lightly. “This time.”

“Thanks so much,” the old man replied mockingly. “While I don't have any real desire to end your career over this—though I'd rather you'd have just asked me—I would still need you regardless. Before you took me from my house, I spent the day in meetings with nearly every top-level official across the various security agencies. I also met with the senators and congressmen from your confirmation. Early yesterday morning, a DSA black site was hit.”

Kit gaped. “Wait, the Department of Superhuman Affairs has black sites? Why?”

“Don't pull that innocent bullshit with me, girl. I know better.”

Kit smiled. “Don't call me a girl if you don't want broken teeth,” she said.

“At any rate,” Robinson said, pushing on. “We have several of them, and for the same reason other agencies keep them. To house people and information we don't want getting out. This particular site was a...holding facility. Not a prison, exactly, but housing fourteen Black Bands whose personalities are unstable. These individuals are incredibly dangerous.”

Kit knew what was coming before he said it.

“All fourteen were taken.”

They appeared in Robinson's office a few minutes later. James stepped back, waiting by the door. Robinson eyed him for a moment, then walked around his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up several files, gesturing for Kit to look.

“These are stills taken from the scene,” Robinson said, pointing. “The abductors were thorough, and left almost no evidence. The guards were tied up and gagged, but one of them heard two of the abductors talking. The first argued that the guards should be killed, the second told him that 'the doctor' wouldn't like it.”

Kit shivered. “Nunez again?”

“That's my guess,” Robinson said. “One of the friends I tried to talk to about Nunez was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the time. When I asked why we were just letting the man walk, he told me that Nunez claimed it was the only chance of avoiding 'phase two'.”

“Fairmont being phase one,” Kit guessed.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Robinson said. “The Chairman didn't get much out of Nunez other than phase two would be much, much worse. I think this might be a sign things are going south.”

Kit scanned through the files, looking at the dossiers of the kidnapped Next. The news was terrible, but that was par for the course with this job.

“Okay,” she said after a few minutes. “You want me to deal with all of this, that's fine. But the only way that happens is if I get full disclosure from you on everything. And I mean
everything
. I think I've proven by now I'm not going to disseminate information, but I can't work blind.”

Robinson nodded. “There's a lot to bring you up to speed on, but I'll make the time.”

“Don't agree so quickly,” Kit said, wagging a finger at him. “I have a few other needs, too. This isn't just about doing my job anymore. If Nunez is up to something and I'm going to stop him, I need control.”

Robinson narrowed his eyes. “Over what, exactly?”

“To start with,” Kit said, pointing at James, “I need him.”

The old man grimaced. “You want me to make sure he's cleared and at your disposal instead of sentenced and put to work doing god knows what for the NSA or CIA.”

Kit nodded. “Also, you need to authorize a panel of telepaths. His sister was attacked because she's Next, unregistered, and the remaining attackers are currently in my custody. I promised James we would punish those men
if
we determined their guilt. Telepaths are the best way.”

Robinson sighed. “They're only valid in an OSA court,” he said.

Kit shrugged. “It's an OSA matter. If they're guilty, they serve maximum sentences in my facility.”

“Fine,” Robinson said. “Anything else? That's already going to be a mountain of paperwork.”

“Other than having the freedom to manage my teams, time, and resources as I see fit without consulting you all the time, just one other detail.”

“Nothing too spectacular, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Kit said. “Since I'm allowed to drop the charges against James for the attack on my agents, I will. That just leaves the suspected murder of Robert Lile.”

Kit leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Lile's death will be ruled an accident. James walks, no strings. In exchange he agrees to work for me until we stop Nunez.”

Robinson nodded. “Fine. I was thinking the same myself. Not going to ask him about it?” He jerked a thumb toward James, who stood watching silently by the door.

“Already did,” Kit said. “Now, let me get home so I can take care of Nunez.”

Kit appeared in her office, now completely used to the sensation of teleportation. James stepped to the side, wavering slightly.

“Go get something to eat,” she said. “Then wait for me here. Make sure your direct line is open.”

“What about these?” James asked, holding up his hands. The silvery bands gleamed in the low light.

“I'm taking you at your word,” Kit said, unlocking his many restraints. “Everything I've read about you says you're a decent guy, James. I won't go back on my promises to you, and I won't lie. We're probably going to need you. If you skip out, I won't have the time to track you down. But a lot of people could die if you do.”

He smiled as Kit pulled off the last band. “You put those fuckers away, and I have no reason to go. Just as long as I have time to take care of my sister.”

It was her turn to smile. “Actually, I'm going to need as much of your attention as I can get, so I'm arranging full-time care for her, as well as rehab and medical care here. I told you before we'd help, and I mean it.”

“Thank you,” James said, briefly closing his eyes. “Uh, anyway, I'm gonna get Mexican. You want anything?”

“Depends on where you're going,” Kit said.

James raised an eyebrow. “Mexico.”

Kit laughed. “Surprise me. I'll call you if I run into trouble with Nunez.”

He was gone an eye blink later, and Kit was on the move.

She took the back exit out of her office, wanting to avoid being seen if at all possible. The small door set in the tiny bathroom was hidden from casual inspection, meant to serve as a bolt hole in an emergency. It pivoted closed behind her as she slid down the ladder inside, coming to a stop in the private service tunnel housed in the space between the first and second floors of the main office. It was tight; she had to move forward on hands and knees. Archer would have had a much harder time.

Kit followed the small tunnel to its eastern terminus, another ladder leading down into the facility itself. This was a better fit, as she only had to climb instead of moving forward. Less than two minutes from leaving her office, Kit found herself standing in one of the long walkway tunnels snaking through the facility like veins.

Though it was early in the morning, she wasn't worried about Nunez not being there. The man lived in quarters inside the lab complex, after all, and was usually up before dawn working. Chances were even she would find him guzzling a cup of coffee instead of waking him.

She jogged through the tunnel until she found one of the access panels placed at regular intervals. Kit entered her override, causing a small wedge of wall to pop out with a hiss. She entered the emergency transport section and punched in her destination.

Kit stepped into the lobby of Research and Development five minutes later. It was strange to see the place without employees bustling about. The lighting was minimal, a handful of LED lamps recessed near floor level to give just enough illumination to see.

She stalked silently across the smooth stone floor. A forced calm filled her, a necessary precaution. Kit knew herself well enough to know that if she allowed the enormity of Nunez's crimes to drive her, or even the personal betrayal of knowing the man had insinuated himself into her life as a friend deliberately, she would do something stupid. Probably fatal.

The door to Nunez's private office stood open a few inches, soft light filtering into the dark hallway. Kit pushed on it gently, trying to get a look inside before committing.

Nunez sat behind his desk, a large single piece of wood shaped and polished into an elegant set of curves. Various projects, components, and diagrams lay scattered about the space, taking up the majority of the room.

He looked up from the touch screen embedded in the desk, and smiled. “Kitra,” he said in his usual honey-smooth accent. “This is an early morning surprise. How can I help you?”

The pleasant tone caught her off guard for a moment. Not because it was pleasant—Nunez was infallibly polite at whatever hour—but for the nearly imperceptible false note in his tone of voice. Had she not been focused like a laser on the man, she would have missed the subtle strain in his manner, the slight creak in his words.

He knew something was wrong. How?

In the second it took Kit to have these thoughts, Nunez tapped something on his desk. A bolt of lightning slammed into her back, locking her muscles as she pitched forward. White hot rage flared to life inside her as the assault ended, control returning to her limbs. Kit managed to push herself into a crouch, breath coming in ragged gasps.

She tried to curse him, but her mouth wasn't as quick to regain contact with her brain as her arms and legs had been.

“Fascinating,” Nunez said. Kit raised her head to look at him, but saw no mockery on his face. “I calibrated that to match the curve of your power increases. I don't know that I can remember a time when my math was off.”

He tapped the screen again, and this time the bolt made the whole world dark.

Regaining consciousness was a slow process, made slower by Kit's unwillingness to make the trip back to the waking world. Some part of her was aware of what she faced, a testament to the level of pain her body must be enduring.