Omega (26 page)

“Kill Bjorn,” he said, and held up the Omega operative, near lifeless. “If you truly mean that you will do whatever it takes, then show me you can do it. Show me you are willing, that you won’t hesitate, that you won’t falter when we need you most.”

“Are you frigging kidding me?” I waved a hand at him. “He’s out. I’m not killing a lump of inert matter like that.”

“Take his soul,” Old Man Winter said. “Show me.”

“I want that crawling around in my head,” I gestured at Bjorn again, “like I want to take a lit blowtorch and stick it in my ear. No, thank you.”

“Kill him,” Old Man Winter said, and pushed Bjorn forward, dangling him in front of me.

“No!” I said, and backed away. “I’m not...no.”

“Is that your final word on the matter?” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes which I ignored, and I felt the stubbornness come back, like I was talking to Mom.

“I’m not killing an unconscious man, even if he is a monster,” I said, backing away. “I’m not a murderer. I’m not like him.”

“Clary,” Old Man Winter said, jarring the big man out of listening to the conversation, watching all that was taking place, “restrain Sienna, please.”

“What?” I recoiled, almost not believing. I saw Zack move in front of Old Man Winter, as if to interpose himself between us, but a net of light hit him, and he spun, dragged to the ground by Eve Kappler’s abilities, her hands out as she turned toward me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Clary,” Old Man Winter said again. “Take hold of Sienna, please.”

“I, uh...” Clary faltered, unmoving, unsure, his eyes wide.

“
Clary
.” Old Man Winter’s voice crackled like thunder, and Clary shook, his skin turning metal as he turned, hesitantly, toward me.

I tensed, ready to dodge him, ready to run, but Eve’s net took me to the ground unexpectedly. I struggled against it, fighting the light, writhing hard against the ground, but it held me tight to the dirt. My head hurt from where I’d hit a rock when I went down, my shoulder screamed at me as I railed against it.

Clary’s shadow extended over me, a long, dark face cast in metal. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he dragged the net off me and anchored his hands on each of my wrists. He turned me around, pressing my back against him, carrying me, my arms twisted, in front of him. I thought about ramming my head back against his face, trying to knock myself unconscious, but I decided it was pointless.

“Sir,” Bastian said, “this is...”

“Not now,” Old Man Winter said, dismissing Bastian. “Clary, hold out her hands.”

“Are you kidding me?” I said as Clary pried my hands loose and extended them, walking me along like some sort of ragdoll as I tried kicking to free myself, to no avail. “Clary, you douche!”

“I’m sorry,” Clary said. “But the man’s spoken, Sienna. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“This is for your own good,” Old Man Winter said, advancing on me, Bjorn held in his hands. “For the good of all of us. You can save us, but only if you are prepared.”

“I’ll prepare,” I said, struggling. “I’ll train, I’ll do whatever you want, please just do not...put this sicko...in my head with the others!”

Old Man Winter pressed Bjorn’s shoulders against my palms, held open by Clary’s grip. I felt the drain of the soul begin, the cumulative effect of touching Bjorn earlier drawing the process faster, as my head started to spin. I whimpered, and closed my eyes tight as the burning began, like the joints of my fingers were on fire where I was touching him. Blissfully, Bjorn made not even a sound, though I could clearly hear him screaming in my head as the last of him left his body and joined me in my own, a searing, joyous, agonizing, pleasurable experience as my body reacted and I felt myself shake from all my nerves tingling.

I heard my breath, falling, rising, felt the slow smile creep onto my face that I had to wipe off by sheer force of will; Charlie was right, it was better than anything, better than the sex—

“I am sorry,” Old Man Winter said, staring down at me. “But you left me no choice.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to regain my breath, pragmatic, wondering how long it would be before I could get away from him, from everybody, torn between what had just happened that made me feel so dirty and violated and yet tingly and warm
—I wanted to simultaneously shower and cast myself into the fire of the dormitory, feel it scream across my skin, searing all the yuck off of me along with this horrible feeling of being used, lied to, betrayed—

“I very much doubt that it is ‘okay’,” Old Man Winter said, withdrawing. “You are still unready, unwilling to do what it will take. You will hesitate and it will be the death of you. And with you, all our hopes.” He snapped his fingers at Parks and Bastian in turn. “Free Zack from the net...and bring him here.”

It took about two seconds for my mind to register what he had said, and another one or two before I realized what he was intending. “No,” I said, nauseous, disbelieving.

“Sir...” Bastian said under his breath.

“That’s not right,” Parks said, a little louder.

“You’re beyond the line here, Director,” Ariadne said, stepping up next to him.

Old Man Winter was quiet for a long moment. “When our entire species is in danger of being wiped out...there are no lines I am not willing to cross.” He turned calmly back to Bastian. “Bring him.”

“NO!” I shrieked and fought against Clary’s rock-like grip, flailing and kicking. I felt him wrap his arm around my midsection, snugging me tight to him while leaving my arms extended, holding them tight enough to numb them. “No!”

“You can’t do this, sir—” I heard Ariadne say.

“Kappler,” Old Man Winter said, “take her away.”

Eve grabbed hold of Ariadne, who screamed as Eve bent her backwards, causing Ariadne to hold her side in pain. I watched Eve wrap an arm tightly around her and drag her away, even as Ariadne tried to fight back. They disappeared into the smoke.

“Roberto...Glen...” Old Man Winter spoke again, warning. “This is the moment to decide whether you are willing to do what it will take to preserve our world...or whether you are content to die with the others.”

“I...” Parks mouth opened and shut, no words coming out.

“Come on,” Bastian said, landing a hand on Parks’ shoulder and pointing him toward Zack, who lay watching the whole exchange under the net, strangely quiet. “You know why we have to.”

“No, please...” I wasn’t even ashamed that the begging came from me. I could see Zack watching me. “Please, please, please don’t...Clary...Parks...Bastian...Please....”

They had Zack up on his feet, by the arms, and brought him forward, toward me, toward death. I looked up, away, tried to pretend I was anywhere but here, in the ruins of the only place I’d ever really thought of as a home, surrounded by the people I trusted with my life, with my future.

“Look at me,” Old Man Winter said, and I did, even though he was blurry and I had to strain to see him. “You will hate me for this. And that is the way of things. You will never need to thank me, when you realize what I have done to save us all here, today. But you will know, the day will come, and you will realize that I have done what I have done…for the good of all of us...and for your own good.”

“Please...” I pleaded. “Please don’t do this. I will kill whoever you tell me to.”

“You are not a killer,” he said, quiet. “Not yet, anyway.”

I didn’t look at Parks or Bastian, holding Zack by the shoulders and using their meta strength to carry him, struggling, toward me. He stopped struggling when he got within a couple feet, stopped kicking, probably for fear of hitting me. I looked into his eyes, and I was more afraid than I’d ever been in my entire life, than when I’d been locked in the box, than when Wolfe threw me into a wall in my basement, than when I thought Gavrikov was going to nuke me or Fries was going to gut me—

“I’m sorry,” I said to Zack as Clary pressed my numb hands against his face, as Bastian and Parks held him there and I felt his skin against mine, the cool touch of the night air revealing the perspiration on my palms, the slick feeling of fear that was all that stood between my lover and I.

“It’s okay,” he said, and he rubbed his cheek against my hand, as though he were stroking me. “It’s okay. Just...be yourself, Sienna. Please.” He smiled, a glorious, genuine smile that lasted only a second or two before the first waver came, as I felt the burning in my hands, felt the swimming in my head, the flicker of those coffee-brown eyes that I loved, and I saw the tensing of the muscles, the clenching of his teeth, that beautiful smile wiped away, now, aghast with horror and anguish—

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I screamed it, “I’m sorry!” The swirling picked up in my mind as my brain made way for him, and he started to shout on his own, to scream, to cry, jerking in the grip of Parks and Bastian, and I fought back against Clary again, but it was impossible, he was immovable, and I hated them hated them hated them ALL...

“Be...yourself...” Zack said, the only discernible sound in the hurricane around me, the gale-force wind in my mind, the tempest rocking my body and his in a tornado of combination, as he screamed, louder and louder, the pain a driving agony now and tearing him apart—

And then he was still, the brown eyes dull, empty; the soul gone from them.

I felt the nausea double, triple, mix with something else, a kind of reckless joy and rush of euphoria that was a hundred times more powerful than what the chloridamide did to me when it hit the vein, and a kind of weak drowsiness settled over me, the emotion blown, and now I wanted more than ever to throw myself into the fire.

“Let her go,” Old Man Winter said, and Clary dropped me to the ground, where I lay huddled, my head overwhelmed, too many thoughts and minds, even behind the wall of chloridamide that remained. “You will remember this day, and look back, and know that I was right.”

“I will look back on this day, and remember...” I said, “...and I will kill you...the next time I see you...” I looked up at him with all the hatred, all the venom, everything I felt down to the last inch of my soul.

Old Man Winter was above me, Bastian and Parks flanking him, and Clary sidling into line behind them. The old man’s face was indecipherable; there wasn’t any expression. It was like it was when I’d first met him, as though I’d never known him at all.

With that, he turned, and strode off through the carnage, the grass and leaves of the dead summer crunching underfoot. Bastian followed first, then Clary, and finally Parks, though he waited a moment. I didn’t look at them, not at any of them. I didn’t want to dignify them with so much as a glance. I clutched my shoulder tight to me, rubbed my arms, which I could not even feel, and lay on my back, looking up to the sky. I didn’t want to look at the body; I knew they had laid me next to him. I reached out for a hand and found it, his bare skin on mine, but his was cold, and lifeless...and mine was not, no matter how much I wished it were. I curled my face against his chest, and it wasn’t moving now, not like last night or this morning, and I knew I could sleep here next to him, undisturbed by his breath because now there was none.

I stared into the black sky overhead, the smoke and darkness lit only by the fires of the burning Directorate, and I felt a touch of something on my forehead. Another followed, and another, and I opened my eyes. Snowflakes fell in little flurries, wending their way toward the earth, falling down around me, around the chaos of the destroyed campus, the destruction of my life, the end of my world, and I lay there, Zack’s cold hand in mine, as they fell.

27.

Interlude

Chanhassen, Minnesota

The Cadillac’s wheel was tight against his hands; the ache was in them,
from the weather
, he told himself, the first flakes of snow hitting the windshield, illuminated by the headlights as he drove down the darkened highway.

“I can’t believe you left Bjorn behind,” Fries said from the backseat. “How could you do that?”

“He disobeyed my order,” Janus said, and gave a reassuring smile to Klementina in the passenger seat, “and he paid the price for it.”

“You let him remain a prisoner of Old Man Winter—” Fries said.

“Hardly,” Janus said. “He’s quite dead, now.”

“Dead?” Fries said into the silence. Madigan, for her part, did not question, did not say a word. She knew. He had worked with her many times before, and she understood the way of things. “You let them kill him?”

“I did not let them do anything,” Janus said. “But I believe Erich Winter has hit his breaking point. You see, Winter is afraid, and Bjorn will suffer the rather unfortunate consequences of that. It’s all part of the plan, you see. All expected.”

“You manipulated him?” Klementina asked, a look of awe on her face. “Old Man Winter and Bjorn?”

“Only Bjorn,” Janus said. “Erich Winter needed no manipulation. Over a hundred years ago, in Peshtigo, Wisconsin, he saw the truth of what we now face, the leader of Century. He knows now how critical Sienna is to the survival of our people, and he will not hesitate to...push her in the right direction.” Janus smiled. “Which, coincidentally, is our direction, though I doubt he fully realizes that right now.” The smile evaporated. “Not that he would care, even if he knew. Meta survival is somewhat higher on his list of concerns than our petty disputes, after all.”

“What is he?” Klementina asked, and even Fries fell silent. “The leader of Century, I mean. I’d heard—well, Kat had—from Old Man Winter that Sienna was important, was vital, but no one seems to want to explain why.”

Janus felt the cold chill run through him too, the remembrance, of a meeting long ago. “So you want to know about the most powerful meta on the planet, do you?”

He could see the hunger in her eyes. “I do.”

“I can only tell you so much; his abilities are beyond that of any class of meta you have ever heard of,” Janus said, with a smile that he didn’t feel. “He is...adaptable. He has powers that no meta should have, abilities you have seen before but in combinations never before possessed by anyone else.”

“Does he have a name?” Klementina asked.

“A thousand of them, Sweetness,” Janus said. “A million perhaps. Excuse me for a moment.” He lifted the disposable cell phone to his ear, and waited to hear the receptionist on the other end. “Message for Alastor. Stanchion went as planned. One casualty, Bjorn Odin-son. All other operatives returning to duty stations. Mission was a success, and Sienna—code-name Savior—will join us within a month.” He halted. “Did you get all that, dear?” The voice repeated it back to him and he listened carefully. “Very good.” He hung up the phone and tossed it back into the center console before closing it.