2 Brooklyn James (16 page)

“Emily,” Max calls, warning in his tone as he gathers himself upright, his cool body sensing the brink of a heat wave.

Hell Hound releases a devilish laugh as the iron pipe falls from Emily’s hand, her body scorching, unable to move. The dryness of her throat burns excruciatingly as if she had walked a hundred miles across the desert. Her internal furnace raging, she feels like she is on fire from the inside out. Her hair falling loose begins to flow against her neck. She sighs with the calm, cool relief cascading over her from head to toe.

“No,” she whispers, her throat still inadequately lubricated to form resonant sound. She shivers, whipping in Max’s direction, the last steel blue ray escaping his eyes.

Hell Hound turns knowingly to the now defenseless Maxim Kiesel, unleashing a flurry of radiating heat. Max falls to his knees toppling over onto his back, his body completely paralyzed and frying just beneath the surface.

“What do you want!” Emily screams, her voice now returning. She jumps in front of Max, facing Hell Hound.

“Vigilare,” he answers in his disturbing tone. With the mention of her name, his eyes dart further open surging with a violent red glow.

Emily shakes her head, challenging him to come up with a different answer.

He steps to her. “Ooh, refreshing,” he says, her icy shell cooling his. “You give me Vigilare or I’m gonna let
loverboy
fry.” He moans, his tongue darting out of his mouth picking up the scent of her neckline. Emily fights the urge to knee him in the groin, his breath and his closeness making her nauseous. “You’ll be feeding him pureed meat through a straw. He won’t even know your name.” He shrugs, continuing with his distorted garble. “Or his.” He sticks his blood-red, raw tongue further out of his mouth, his target her neck, aching for the soothing cool relief. She pushes his face away, the contact of their skin creating a searing sound.

She nods her head incapable of rendering a verbal agreement, her facial expression a mix of disgust and shame.

“Be seeing you
ice queen,”
his voice now devoid of the evil distortion, returning to his human form. The heat from his body, gone. His hungry, glowing red eyes now are replaced with a dark, empty shade of brown. Manny Briggs disappears into the low-hanging trees.

“Max,” Emily calls to him, covering his scorching body with her own attempting to cool him. She channels him with her telekinesis, searching his wide-open immobile eyes for some trace of identification. “Take it back. Please take it back,” she refers to the icy synergy he so willingly bequeathed to her. Tears form in her eyes. She wipes at them briskly, convincing herself they’re caused by gratitude and nothing more. She lifts his torso against hers tugging at his black leather jacket, discarding the molten material. “Max, please,” her voice breaks giving in to more tears. She shakes him, his limp body finally growing resistant with a shocking inhalation. Emily presses her mouth against his delivering to him a long, cool expiration. The searing heat from his lips transforming to lukewarm as he breathes her in. His legs bend behind her supporting her back, his arms intertwining snugly around her waist. His mouth and his tongue awakened, he kisses her deeply accepting the icy relief she so willingly gives. Her hands cupping his face, the corners of her lips turn upward into a smile at the ever-growing crisp, cool feel of his skin. Her body returning to warm-blooded homeostasis, she pulls her mouth away from him.

“What the hell happened?” he gasps, his chest heaving up and down. “Where is he? What the hell is he?” Max peers over the landscape, the steel blue color returning to his eyes.

“He’s gone.” She rises, helping Max to his feet.

“We have to find him.” Max looks around the wreckage, his hands clasped at the base of his neck. He clears his throat, successfully fighting off the moisture attempting to collect in the corners of his eyes, grieving for his grandfather and for his legacy, everything representing Pee-Paw turned to rubble and ash. “How many others are there? Like him?”

“Like him, I don’t know.” Emily shrugs. “Like you...and me, a few more,” she freely divulges, her reluctance toward his loyalty extinguished.

“Take me to them,” he says somewhere between a plea and a demand.

She nods, her eyes conflicted.

He steps toward her, wrapping himself fittingly around her torso, his mouth hovers over hers. “Thank you,” he says giving in to the urge to show his gratitude. She returns the gesture, her full lips moving skillfully against his with newfound trust. Coming up for air, he takes her hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Does he operate independently?” Aubrey inquires.

“Ah, somewhat. Show them Gina,” Dr. Godfrey urges.

Gina stands, walking away from the window. Aubrey and Marks keep their eyes on Tony whose endurance begins to falter, his strikes and kicks now sluggish and ill-timed. Gina proceeds, moving further away from them, from Tony, barricading herself on the other side of the double-paned glass laboratory. With each measurable distance from her, Tony loses strength and focus, stumbling to his knees intermittently, clouds of condensation from his labored breathing spouting from his mouth.

Dr. Godfrey scrunches up his nose hoisting his glasses up on his cheekbones. Squinting through them, he motions Gina to return. With each approaching step, Tony grows stronger, more agile and aggressive, fully recuperating, his contact with the
makiwara
precise and lethal.

“You should see him when Gina engages him in Vigilare-mode,” Dr. Godfrey pipes.

“How’s it feel to know you have that much control over someone? All of us?” Aubrey asks.

“Burdensome.” Gina stands at the window willing Tony’s body warm.

“Can I try?” Marks asks, standing from his comfortably seated position beside Aubrey, aware his humanness must make him appear inept, the last image he wants Aubrey to have of him.

“It’s not recommended,” Dr. Godfrey gently lets him down.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Gina scolds softly, her conscience already troubled enough with the current events, let alone having to worry with Marks’ safety.

“He has just as much right to be here as him,” Aubrey argues defiantly, motioning out the window in Tony’s direction as she rises protectively beside Marks. “You’re already the fastest, the strongest...the
center,”
she hovers over the word, her discontent with her beta position festering. “Hell, now you even have a mate...of Vigilare pedigree. If you expect me to cuddle with Emily when the nights get cold, you can forget it!”

The image intensified by Aubrey’s fiery animation causes the corners of Gina’s mouth to curl unwillingly.

“It’s not funny,” Aubrey demands, her own mouth giving in to a grin.

“Ahem,” Gina clears her throat, working to straighten out her lips. “I know.” Her hand juts palm-side out. “I just don’t want you to get caught in the middle,” she explains to Marks. “And I certainly don’t want anything to happen to you. For your sake, or hers.” She motions to Aubrey.

“Well, then, we better run you through the wringer,” Aubrey exclaims, hooking her arm through Marks’. “Can we use the testing lab?” Aubrey seeks Dr. Godfrey’s approval.

“Knock yourself out, kiddo,” he says, appreciative of her can-do spirit.

“Come on.” She tugs on Marks. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

“Testing lab?” he quizzes, following her lead. “What’cha got...some Vigilare serum?” His eyes popping with the idea of joining the supernatural.

She giggles, pulling him inside the glass box, locking the sliding door behind them.

“She’s young,” Dr. Godfrey consoles the worry in Gina’s expression.

“Is there any way to reverse the process? Make her perfectly normal...one-hundred-percent human again?”

“I don’t think so, my dear.” Dr. Godfrey continues shifting his glance from his clipboard to Tony. “You think she’s unhappy?”

“I think she could be happier.” Gina looks to him from the window. “Maybe we all could.”

“Are you suggesting a complete Vigilare extinction?” He peers at her from over his bifocals.

“There has to be a way. It’s the only way, Dr. Godfrey. You created the bloodline, you have to find a way to annihilate it.” Her solemn attention returns to Tony. “Look what we’ve done to him. What ETNA has done to Manny Briggs. Who’s next? Marks? How many others?”

“Annihilation. Extinction. Only necessary in the case of Manny Briggs...Hell Hound...as with everything evil. You,” he says, his expression affectionate, lightly tapping his fingertips off her chest above her heart before continuing, “Aubrey, Emily.” He marvels at Gina’s hardworking protégé. “Detective Gronkowski. The world needs more of you. The good guys.”

“The problem with good...it can always turn bad. If you think for one minute Emily is not capable of using her powers for her own personal gain, you are sorely mistaken.” She thumps her hand off her chest. “Even me. How many lives am I responsible for taking? Sure, I can attempt to justify it all day long. They were rapists and pedophiles. But did they deserve to die? Were their lives mine to take? ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’”

“That’s why we’re here. Training and learning how to control the metamorphosis. We’re taking a responsible approach, Gina dear.”

“How responsible were you and Dr. Ryan when ETNA hoarded my blood?” she bites. “Maybe you should refer to Mary Shelley. Monsters cannot be controlled. I’m sure this is exciting and gratifying for you. Some of your best work,” she further incites. “How warm and fuzzy will you feel when there are a hundred, a thousand Hell Hounds roaming the free world?”

“You won’t let that happen. Neither will he.” Dr. Godfrey watches Tony, nearly moved to tears at his heart, his try.

“Stop this,” she says, watching Tony pick himself up out of the deep snow yet again, his body surely on the brink of a breakdown. “He’s had enough.” She pulls the clipboard from Dr. Godfrey’s hands winging it across the floor into the corner.

“I’ll prepare the recovery room,” he says, shuffling away.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Dr. Godfrey stops, his back to her, a smile gracing his lips at her concern for the brave detective.

“And Dr. Godfrey...you find a way to end what you’ve created. Or I will.”

Moments later, Tony
sits in the small, dark recovery room wrapped snugly in a blanket. His therapeutic chair lukewarm and positioned in front of a crackling fireplace, Gina comes to him, handing him a brimming concoction of herbs and potions. He reaches out for the thermos, his hands unsteady along with the rest of his body as it engages in the autonomic warming process of shivering. She kneels in front of him, the glow from the fireplace glimmering through the strands of her long, full auburn hair.

“Here,” she says, firmly holding the thermos to his lips.

The noxious smell of the tepid liquid causes Tony to refuse, pressing his chattering teeth together.

“It’ll help warm you.” He takes a sip choking it down, his eyes never faltering from hers. “Good for aches, pains and inflammation.” She insists he drink more, the bitter brew aiding his tongue and the inside of his mouth in recovery from numbness. Setting the thermos on the end table beside him, she pulls supplies from a medical bag, lining them up at the foot of his chair. Wringing water from a moist, hot towel submerged in a metal bowl beside the fireplace, she wraps Tony’s elevated feet in it.

“Ssst,” he groans, the stimulation painful against his ice-cold appendages.

Gina lets the towel rest a moment, softening and removing any residual dried, frozen blood. Scooping homemade medicated balm from a plastic container, one of Dr. Godfrey’s serums, she gently massages the thick, greasy substance onto his feet. Pushing the wide-legged
gi
pants up toward his knees, her focus trails from his shins to his eyes with sincere apology. The fronts of his legs are covered in bruises, speckled with blood from nicks in his flesh at its contact with the unforgiving
makiwara.
Tony remains expressionless, his hazel eyes tired and somber, mental fatigue holding captive his lucidity. The nerves in his feet and legs awakening from the peppermint oil in the salve create the sensation of tiny pinpricks along his lower body. His head falls back, relaxing against the plush recliner.

After covering his balmed extremities in soft, white rolls of gauze, Gina takes a pair of scissors to the irritating canvas fabric, splitting it up the middle from his ankle to his hip reducing him to his boxers beneath. She settles on her knees upright between his legs as she pulls the blanket from his upper body, unbelting his
gi
and swiftly laying it back against the sides of the recliner exposing his bare chest, inspecting. He moans, her sincere touch warming him from the inside out, his muscles continuing to twinge. Snipping away at his sleeves, she doctors his hands and arms with the same care she gave his lower appendages. Locking the recliner into its upright position, she places a down-stuffed pillow behind his head and shoulders, positioning them closer to her reach.

“A little more,” she softly commands, holding the thermos to his lips, taking note of the thickness in his shoulders and his neck as his Adam’s apple engages, transporting the drink. Exchanging the mug for a moist warm towel, she presses it against his eyebrow removing blood just above the coarse, dark hairline. Further inspecting the tear in his flesh, she cautions, “Might sting a bit.” He winces with the cold, sterile contact of the Betadine prep pad. Gina lightly blows over the wound causing him some relief before applying a butterfly adhesive to close the skin. More of the red viscous substance clings to the corner of his bottom lip. With the removal of the outer hardened layer, fresh blood forms at the dense capillary hotbed. Tony’s eyes flair like the crossbar of a lit-up police cruiser, reflective of the emerald green eyes staring back at him, quickly dimming out, his body too tired to fully transform. The jolt to his sympathetic nervous system quieting as his cool body temperature maintains a low heart and respiratory rate. His mouth soothes with the contact of Gina’s encasing his bottom lip drawing it carefully between hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, lingering there.