Broken (16 page)

Bastian sank, closer and closer to the ground, his body beginning to shrink as we came down. My feet hit the snow-covered tarmac with a soft squish, and the snowflakes that were falling made me blink every few seconds and keep my head down. His body was returning to human, a bizarre, slow transformation that was punctuated with pained grunts from him that grew in intensity as the seconds wore on. He tried to batter me away but I held tight as his scales turned back to skin, and the place where I had gripped him turned back into his forehead. He had my arm in his mouth but let it go as it became too much for him and with a last surge I felt him go limp and I dropped his body to the ground as the pleasant swirl in my head took over.

I left his naked corpse behind as I started to run, the natural high of my powers blotting out the pain in my right arm where he’d impaled it. I didn’t even look at it as I took off through the snow. The Gulfstream was ahead, I could see it, and all I needed to do was break a window and I’d officially put a serious damper on their travel plans. I wasn’t surprised the charter pilot had kept going after what was happening on the runway, but I doubted he’d be dumb enough to attempt to fly away with a depressurized cabin.

The plane was taxiing slowly across the snowy runway, breaking to the crossover with the freshly plowed one. The snow wasn’t coming down too thick now, just a little here and there, a break in the storm. The pilot would have to get above the clouds or he’d be risking flying through this soup. Not a good risk, in my opinion, but then, I wasn’t a pilot. Actually, I hadn’t even been on a plane. I hoped my assumptions were correct.

I ran toward the left wing of the plane, staying well clear of the jet engines mounted to the tail. I caught up with it about a hundred yards from the turnaround and leapt onto the wing. I caught my balance and steadied myself as I saw the cabin door begin to open. I pulled a pistol and pointed it toward the closest window, then started to compensate my aim for the movement of the plane.

There was a heavy thump and Old Man Winter was there, only feet away from me. I emptied the whole magazine at his face without hesitation. Most of them hit, but he had effectively iced his entire skin, like armor, and all it succeeded in doing was chipping at it, putting cracks in the sheet that extended all around his nose and cheeks. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be,” I muttered as I tossed the gun aside. He watched it sail off the edge of the wing; I wasn’t concerned, I had two more if I needed them.

I came at him with a rush of anger, his blue eyes barely visible under the ice he’d formed over his body like a protective carapace. I hit him with the palm of my hand and splintering cracks appeared like spiderwebs all across the surface of it. He moved fast but not fast enough, and I dodged his counterpunch by sliding to the side. I punched him again, this time in the side of the head with a blow that had lifetime’s worth of fury behind it, and the ice around his ear cracked, breaking off in a fist-sized chunk. I hit him again, and again, watching the breakage spread. I watched little cubes fall off as I hammered at him. “I bet you’re handy at a party,” I told him as I hit him again and broke loose a three-inch segment of ice. “Y’know, because running out of ice is a persistent concern.”

He tried to backhand me but missed as I dodged out of his reach. The sheet of ice coating his face had begun to slide off, damaged now beyond his ability to repair. He pulled it free, revealing a nose that seeped almost black-red blood down his upper lip. “Yes, I did understand your witticism.”

“
It’s hard to tell, with you,” I said, and launched into a kick that caught him in the belly. I felt the blow land and I would have sworn it was the hardest kick I’d ever thrown. I heard the break of ice and he doubled over, but recovered quickly and swiped for me. “You know, because of your disposition.” I punched him in the face and heard the satisfying noise of the cartilage in his nose being radically realigned. More blood flowed out and froze the moment it hit the wing of the plane.

He took a step back from me, right to the edge of the wing as the plane started to make a slow turn onto the clear runway. I glanced for just a second at the windows; I should have shot at least one of them when I had a chance.

“
I killed your bodyguards,” I said, taunting him as he stood there, on the edge of the wing, watching me with those fearsome blue eyes. “Every last one of them, from Parks to Bastian.”

“
I know,” he said, immovable, staring back at me, and I caught a flicker of something. In spite of the damage, his face wore its usual inscrutable look, but there was a hint of curl at the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “I am very proud of you.”

“
Oh, you bastard,” I said and made a move for him. He dodged to his left and circled around, positioning himself between me and the fuselage of the plane. “I hope you feel the same sense of pride when I rip your soul screaming from your body.”

“
I would,” he said quietly, “if I thought you were capable of such a thing.”

“
Oh, I’m capable,” I said. “In case you missed it, I just coldly murdered four people that I hated way less than you, and not one of them didn’t die in screaming pain.”

“
Indeed,” he said, almost with amusement. “You have become everything I ever hoped you could be. What I made you to be—”

“
YOU SON OF A BITCH!” I charged at him again and this time I connected before he could dodge. I hit him low with my shoulder into his midsection, tackling him schoolboy-style. I got astride his massive frame and scrambled up to his chest, where I proceeded to pummel his face with a punch that—no shit—caused the wing of the plane to dip. I hit him again and again and watched the cold blue eyes lose a little of their luster. “You know what you made me?” I hit him again and felt the satisfying crack of his jaw. “My mother abused and imprisoned me—Wolfe hunted and tortured me—Zack and Fries tried to seduce me for their own different reasons—and Omega and their lackeys have been dogging me every step of the way!” I hit him again. “But you—you—you ass!” I felt a hot tear run down my face as I hit him and broke his cheekbone. “You! You made me a victim.” I sobbed and seethed, all in one, crying in purest fury. “For the first time ever.” I hit him again, but there was no satisfaction in it. I stopped and grew cold and looked down at his face, misshapen from what I had done to him, and I sniffed. “Now I’m gonna repay the favor.”

I reached down and grabbed his face, burying my thumb in one cheek and my fingers in the other, squeezing his damaged cheekbones, feeling them crack in my grasp. I relished inflicting the pain, the righteous fury consuming me like a cold fire that would melt him to nothingness. I looked into his blue eyes, the shock of frost in there, and knew mine were colder still. “Let me show you how Zack felt,” I said, pushing down on his face as though it could somehow make things work faster. You can die the way you made him die. It’ll be like a little reunion. We can all be together one last time before I put an end to all of us—all of us! Once and for all.”

I barely felt his hand creep up my wrist, but his grasp was far too weak to stop me. I felt the first of my power begin to work, to drain him, but he was cold to the touch in spite of the heat, a cold numbness that crept up my fingers from where they met his face. I waited, wanting it, wanting to draw him in so I could destroy us all together—all the people who had hurt me so badly, all in one convenient package, all destined for the same screaming oblivion. The top of the IDS tower seemed like a good place to do it. Or a bullet from my own gun, properly aimed.

The cold numbness in my right hand grew more fierce where I was touching him, and the haze of my power dimmed. I snapped out of the sweet haze of my power working, the drain of his soul slowing to a trickle and then stopping. I opened my eyes with a shock and realized that Winter had turned loose his power, that there was a thick layer of ice that held my hand imprisoned in his, that separated my touch from his skin, from his face. He pushed back and lifted me off him with my trapped wrist and I felt it crack where it was buried deep in the ice. He stood, forcing himself up atop his long, ungainly legs and he brought us both to standing, though he did it to me unwillingly, and the pain I felt coupled with the numb cold in my right hand was staggering enough that I couldn’t ignore it.

“
I see that you have forgotten,” he said, as he held me at arm’s length, speaking through his comically distorted and beaten face, “that you are not the only one who carries a touch that can kill.” He took a deep breath of the cold air as the plane locked itself into position, ready for takeoff. “I am proud of you; you truly have become all I have wanted you to be.”

“
I … will … kill you … “ I sobbed as he bent my arm around and faced me off the back of the plane’s wing.

“
Perhaps,” he said calmly. “But not today. Til we meet again.”

Whatever defiant words I might have spat back at him were lost as he broke my right hand off as easily as snapping a piece of stemware. I heard it shatter and then I was falling, plummeting to the tarmac below as I heard the jet engines spool up and the Gulfstream rocketed down the runway. I waited, hoping he would fall from the sky before me, unable to make it back into the plane, but I saw nothing fall but the snow, now picking up, flurries coming down all around me as the plane disappeared into the clouds.

I lay in the middle of the runway, cradling the stump where my hand had been only a moment earlier, and rocked back and forth until the pain claimed me into blissful blackness, and the snow-flecked sky was replaced by the dark of unconsciousness.

21.

I was in memories and dreams again, and this time I knew it. Zack was there, striding through a hallway as fast as he could go. His pace was good, he walked quickly, and the insubstantial ghost of me was dragged along for the ride. I recognized where we were; it was Headquarters at the Directorate. Outside, the skies were dark. Ahead was a light and an office that was eminently familiar—Old Man Winter’s, and the bastard himself was behind the desk, dressed exactly as he had been on the night the Directorate had been destroyed.

The night Zack had died.

Zack knocked on the doorframe; it was mere formality, but Old Man Winter looked up from what seemed to be a daze. He blinked at Zack, at the sound, then cocked his head and regarded him curiously as Zack spoke. “You called me, sir?”

Winter seemed to regain his mental footing. “Status?” he rumbled.

“
Campus is clear, sir,” Zack said. “Our remaining metas are clumped together in the dorm, all non-essential personnel are evacuated, and all is quiet.”

Old Man Winter only gave a slight nod that he had heard or cared what Zack had said, but his expression suddenly shifted to something more curious. “You have … become intimate with Sienna.”

Zack flushed. “You’ve been spying on her? On us?”

“
Always.” Winter waited for his reaction.

“
I thought you’d given that up now that she’s been working for you for nearly a year,” Zack said.

Old Man Winter cocked his head at an off angle. “That I keep an eye on prized assets should hardly come as a surprise to you.”

Zack’s face got twisted, resentful. “Like I said to you months ago; I’m not telling you anything about our relationship anymore.”

“
It is true,” Winter acknowledged, “you have not been of much help lately in determining her state of mind. I have hoped that would change.”

“
Doubtful,” Zack said, gritting his teeth. “If there was any way I could find to tell her what I did when she and I first got started—if I could expose you and the fact that you’re still spying on her without completely burning my bridge to her in the process?” He looked away. “Be assured I’d do it.” There came a change over Zack’s expression. “I’m in love with her. And I won’t let anything come between the two of us nor allow any harm to come to her.”

Old Man Winter showed little reaction. “A bold proclamation. You are the tie that binds her to this place, to us. You’ve done better than I ever would have predicted; but let us admit it, she has other friends she relies on now, a burgeoning support mechanism.”

“
Barely, now,” Zack said. “Reed and Scott gone, Kat incapacitated—I’m all she’s got left.”

Old Man Winter didn’t flinch. “True enough.” He leaned forward. “You must speak with her on a matter of critical importance.”

Zack’s skepticism immediately showed. “What?”

Old Man Winter’s eyes flickered. “Her reluctance to kill is becoming a liability.”

Zack snorted. “You talk about her in terms of assets and liabilities, like she’s just some number on a balance sheet that needs to be shifted around.” He glared at Winter. “If she’s that easy to figure out, why not shift her into the ‘kill’ column yourself?” He waited for a response. “You know why you can’t?”

Winter gave no hint of emotion. “She has fears—”

“
It’s not that,” Zack said with a smug smile. “You’ll never guess, probably because you were never like her.” The smile faded, replaced with an almost haunted look. “It’s because she’s got a good heart.” He smiled again, bitterly this time. “Cheesy as that sounds, everything done to her over the years just damaged the surface; it didn’t kill off her ability to feel. She looks in the eyes of people and she still feels like they’re people, not just items under her control. In spite of what everyone’s tried to do to her, in spite of that snarky defense mechanism she fires off every few seconds that keeps almost everyone at a distance, she cares more about people than I think you ever did.” Zack folded his arms. “You probably don’t understand that, though.”