Emergence (17 page)

“I fell down the stairs,” I told him, avoiding any details. “I’m okay.”

“You sure don’t
look
okay.” He came over and kneeled down beside me, between the couch and the coffee table, staring at my leg that protruded from my shorts, and then up at my face. The heady, earthen scent of weed hit me, and I exhaled to clear my nose, it was so strong. “Well, you don’t
smell
okay.”

He stood up and snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

He put his hands on his hips. “We’ve discussed this a hundred times, Viv. As long as I don’t smoke here, it’s none of your business, remember?”

“It is when you come here reeking like you just got off the boat from Jamaica. I’m getting high just sitting here.” I raised my hands in surrender. My head was already starting to hurt and his dope stench wasn’t helping matters, worrying the splinter of my anger. “Never mind. I don’t want to fight.”

He shook his head. “Fuck it, I’m out.”

He stomped off, and I sighed, but not loud enough for him to hear me. I hadn’t meant to piss him off so fast. It was just the pain and thoughts of Monger filling my head with ugliness, all looking for a way out. It was still for the best that Steve left. I didn’t have the patience for him right now, so I stayed quiet, and he took that as acknowledgement that he keep going. He slammed the door, shaking the apartment walls. It was good I didn’t have any real neighbors, just a tattoo shop below my apartment, or I’d have been kicked out a long time ago. Steve and I had this same
conversation
—such as it was—at least once a month for the last eight years.

I moaned as I got up to lock the door behind him, sliding the chain into place to keep him from coming back in, then grabbed my laptop. Sitting on my ass and doing nothing might have felt good, but Monger was still out there, using kids and plotting something nefarious. Or something. Whatever it was that villains did.

Since I’d half-ass predicted the general location of the most recent robbery attempt, and there was nothing obvious tying everything together, there had to be something about the locations themselves that was important. Or maybe I’d just watched too damn many CSI shows and was full of shit. Either, likely.

I loaded my computer and opened up Google Earth, pinpointing the four places Monger had directed the kids to hit. Just like I’d noticed before, it was vaguely a square with each point being within the boundaries of downtown Port Haven.

It hit me then; I hadn’t bothered to ask Serpentine how
many
kids had manifested recently. Seemed a whole bunch, though. Knowing how many had come online might have helped me figure out if there was some other crime coming and possibly tell me where. At least I knew the general area she and the others had come from, having passed the groups of street kids hanging out on South Vine a hundred times on my way to work. As a last resort, I could head over there and see what I could find out.

According to the news, the last of the kids got away despite the faster police response, though I didn’t imagine he would be throwing a huge party in celebration or buying a mansion anytime soon. He’d likely be laying low; these kids didn’t know much more than the streets they grew up on. That’s where they were most comfortable. And where all their friends were. I’d bet that’s where they’d be found, unless they hit the lottery, and maybe even then.

I’d save that for last. It wasn’t as if they’d open up to me all that easily, but then again, given my face and leg and all my tats and piercings—which I’d managed to put back in since the swelling had receded a bit—I’d fit in. Still, it was a long shot.

I scanned the Market Valley district, looking for anything that might give me a clue as to what Monger was doing there. There were tons of little shops and companies that operated out of the area. A couple banks, a bunch of lawyer’s offices, about ten bail bonds offices, a satellite office of a pharmaceutical company, a couple of neighborhood grocery stores, a few fabric shops, a dozen corporate business offices ranging from dollar stores to big retailers, and a whole bunch of office spaces that were either vacant or Google wasn’t up to date on what was in them.

After a couple hours, the screen turned into a blur of names and addresses and I slumped back onto the couch with a grunt. The movement stirred the air, and I could smell Steve’s pot stink all over again, as if he were still in the room.

I fanned my hand in front of my face. As open-minded as I was toward people’s habits, live and let live and all that, I’d never gotten into dope. Never understood the need to medicate myself, aside from cigarettes.
Especially
after I’d manifested. My power needed a tight leash, or I could kill someone. Hero could attest to that. I’d put a hurting on him early on when he’d come to check on me. Wasn’t my finest hour, but it made it damn clear just how dangerous I could be when I cut loose. It was safer to avoid booze and dope and anything else mood-altering that could potentially let that genie out of the bottle. There’d be no coming back from murder.

Cigs were another matter. At least for a while. I’d become a fricking smoke stack for about year after the crash, giving my hands something to keep them occupied, I guess…to keep them from shaking like they used to. Fortunately, I broke that habit. Seemed a sad excuse to blow more money than I had, the result literally ash. That was a lot of cash I was burning up that I could have used on music, my one true drug…or rent. That popped up often enough to be a pain ever since my grandmother died. I shook my head at the foolishness of the past and had a thought come to mind as if I’d shaken something loose.

I bolted upright and stared at my monitor again, a smile springing to my lips. My eyes traced the locations once more, my head nodding all the while, settling on one I’d discounted early on, seeing it now through new eyes. I scanned the information once more. It made perfect sense.

To me, at least.

SIX

While I’d been going over maps and racking my brain for answers, the Department of Chimeric Defense had been busy; just like I had expected, they’d picked up on the area Monger was sending the kids to and had set up a perimeter of chimeric enforcement. That meant DCD officers and the PwP suppression teams, called P.O.N.E., which I think stood for ‘Powered Offender Neutralization & Enforcement’ were posted at every corner around the imaginary square of the previous attacks, giving everyone the electronic stink-eye. The DCD carried heavy weapons; pulse cannons, meant to subdue or delay any chimerics they came across, and the smaller P.O.N.E. units were usually comprised of really low-level chimerics or highly-specialized ‘normals.’ These guys were usually the tactical responders until the real enforcement arrived; in this case that meant two chimerics designated specifically to defend Port Haven: Willow and the Wisp.

The twins—one male, the other female—had been stationed in Port Haven about two years back when it became clear there were too many chimerics manifesting locally to be contained by traditional law enforcement. When S.W.A.T.’s on the ropes, it’s time to send in the big guns, and rather than bring in the National Guard to stir up all sorts of bad feelings, the President had decided it best to assign posts across the country to TCA-licensed chimerics. This allowed for a powered response sufficient to the task, yet didn’t carry the stigma of martial law. The Chimeric Agency did one thing really damn well, and that was public relations.

Born and raised in Port Haven, Willow and the Wisp seemed a natural fit, having only been gone the few years since they’d manifested while they underwent TCA training on the use of their new powers. More like brainwashed to be good civil servants, but whatever. They’d made their presence clear, beating inexperienced chimerics back into the shadows or sending them off to research farms. The pair had been oddly absent during the last few incidents, but the persistence of Monger’s cannon fodder brigade had forced their hand, it looked like. The siblings could be seen patrolling the skies of downtown, two angelic white streaks soaring against the backdrop of the pale blue sky.

Neither of the twins possessed super vision as far as my research told me, so it was pretty simple surging over the roofs to end up inside the containment field the DCD had set up. It was
too
easy, to be honest. That bothered me.

Willow and the Wisp had gotten lax since they’d taken part in quelling the Covenant Uprising last year. Chimerics still operating in the metro, and not blatantly committing crimes other than violating the accords of the Patriot Act, had been left mostly undisturbed; were they to catch me there, there’d be consequences. It wasn’t as if they were really looking though, apparently presuming the overt presence of the DCD would deter chimeric activity.

I didn’t believe that.

Monger was looking to stir something up just like Covenant had, using kids who had pretty much nothing to lose. According to Serpentine, the money he’d been offering was a modest fortune. They were blinded by it. They’d do whatever Monger wanted, the opportunity to make their lives more comfortable for the foreseeable future was a hell of a carrot. A little show of force wasn’t going to stop these kids, since each and every one of them had deep-seated anti-authoritarian complexes. The DCD would have better luck telling them to conform than they would stopping them from doing what street rats like this had always done:
survive
.

I watched as the twins zipped overhead, timing my advances for when they were turned away. I headed toward the center of the square I’d drawn up and eventually settled on the roof of the building I felt most likely to be visited by Monger.

My leg, though better than the day before, was still really stiff and sore. It made it hard to move without surging. Fortunately, the application of my power blurred the pain. After a few uncomfortable minutes, I found a nice patch of shadows to disappear into and did just that.

The morning passed slowly. I was beginning to question the validity of my deductions when there was a sudden eruption of pulse fire in the distance. I tried to zero in on it, but it seemed to be coming from several places at once. Cursing under my breath, I clambered to my feet to get a better read on the direction. That’s when I realized it was coming from several areas, pulse bursts exploding at the opposite corners of Market Valley. My throat tightened, my instincts warring with my intellect; the former wanted to chase the sound, the latter knew better. I glanced upward to see the twins holding their position in the sky, not bothering to react to the disturbances.

That’s when a loud
crash
shook the building I was on.

I darted to the ledge to see Monger rip the security gate from the wall and use it to bash in the door behind it. My hands trembled upon seeing him again. He looked vicious and powerful, tearing aside the remnants of the door with ease, a howling alarm going off as he did. I’d expected him to bolt inside, but he didn’t. Instead, he backed away from the building and moved into a patch of darkness across from the door he’d just torn apart. His gaze went to the sky, and I ducked behind the ledge, watching.

My thoughts careened through my skull, lost and out of control. The building I’d come to believe was Monger’s target was a pharmaceutical company office that, until recently, had numerous government contracts for undisclosed pharmaceuticals that had been doled out to the military for years. Then they shut down, out of nowhere, going dark with each and every location being liquidated and no buyer on record. They simply ceased to exist. That didn’t happen when things were good. And though I had no concrete evidence to link Monger and the disappeared company, I was making some connections that made sense to me. His arrival helped cement them, but then why would he hide?

The roar of Willow and the Wisp’s approach brought me back to reality. I surged for cover. The last thing I needed was them thinking I was the one who’d set the alarm off. They swooped past my hiding place on the roof and hit the ground with a determined
thump
outside of the wrecked door.

That’s when it hit me.

The twins had made a similar connection; that’s why they hadn’t bothered with whatever was happening on the fringes. Those were just distractions. The real purpose of all the attacks had yet to be revealed, and I had just realized what it was. I ran to the ledge and opened my mouth to warn them.

Too late.

Willow slipped into the darkness of the building in search of Monger, leaving her brother outside for just a moment.

I caught a whiff of the same acrid substance that Monger had used to heal himself when we’d fought, the same one I suspected he’d used to force early manifestations on the street kids. I saw him emerge from the darkness. Fear clutched my throat. I could say nothing as Monger rushed up behind the Wisp and drove his fist into the hero’s lower back.

“Remember me,
friend
?” Monger asked, the question lilting, playful.

A horrific
crack
reverberated through the alley, the sound of a great, rotten tree toppling in a storm. The Wisp fell, clutching his spine, screaming.

Monger clasped the fallen chimeric’s head and lifted him, driving his face into the wall until the Wisp went silent, blood staining the wall, his famously white hair turned a wet crimson. My stomach churned. I found I couldn’t look away.

Willow burst from the door and collided with Monger, brilliant flashes exploding from her fists as she flailed at her brother’s attacker. “I’ll kill you, Phillip!” she screamed, her voice ragged and raw, piercing in its intensity.

Monger stumbled backwards under the ferocity of the blows, each one leaving a searing brand on him. Smoke billowed from the wounds, and I could see charred flesh at the impact points. Willow kept on without restraint. She struck blow after blow, driving Monger down the alley.

“You’re dead!” she howled, repeating the same after each punch, foam-flecked spittle spewing from her mouth.

Monger wilted under her assault. He dropped to a knee and threw an awkward overhand punch, catching Willow in the face. Such was his power that her legs were knocked from under her. She hit the asphalt, landing hard on her back, her head striking the ground. A groan slipped from her as she tried to get back to her feet. I could see she was having trouble getting her body to cooperate, stunned by the unexpected blow.