Predominance (36 page)

“Sure!” Yvette said after a pause, then turned to me. “I'll stay. Why don't you just go ahead and close the deal? Hopefully, everything will be fixed by the time you get back.”

“Great!” Mitch said, relieved. “So, I'll see you in the lobby in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah,” I agreed dubiously. “Tell Mr.…?”

“—B!” Mitch said quickly. “Mr. B.”

“Tell Mr. B that I'll be there.”

Mitch gave me another insincere smile and left. When my hypersenses reached for him, wondering what the hell was going on, I couldn't read him at all. I was a bit concerned about that, until Yvette distracted me with a passionate kiss.

She gave me another before I left the boat, and I almost decided not to go. “That's a reminder not to take too long!” she warned in a whisper, her gaze boring into mine. Looking into those heavenly blue eyes was enough to make me understand how empty and incomplete my life would be without her now, because my heart was in them. My life, my love, my very soul were in them.

That's when I realized I shouldn't go anywhere; that nothing was more important than staying here with her. I was just about to say the hell with it when Yvette reminded me I still needed to pick up our bags from the hotel and check out. Sighing, I realized that I had no choice but to go back to the hotel. Might as well finish this deal, I thought. So I kissed my Yvee one last time and left.

“I love you!” Yvette called from the open hatch as I jumped onto the pier.

I turned around and smiled, watching my angel wave goodbye. “I love you!” I shouted out loud. “I'll be right back!” 

Famous last words.

Predominance

WHEN I GOT
to the hotel lobby it was completely empty, with the exception of the same tall blonde receptionist who had helped us with directions before. She was standing behind the huge mahogany front desk with a bulky envelope in her hand. She smiled at me as soon as she saw me walk in. “Good morning!” she chirped as I approached the desk.

“Good morning.” I answered politely. “I'm supposed to meet a 'Mr. B.' here in the lobby. Do you know if he's around?”

“Oh!” she realized. “Then you must be Mr. Bellator.”

My blood rushed faster through my veins at the sound of my name. All my recent transactions, including the purchase of the boat, had been made under my new alias. Not even Mitch, to whom I had spoken in the past, had ever gotten my real name. Whoever I was to meet knew exactly who I was. “Mr. B. left this for you,” the receptionist added, handing me the sealed envelope she'd been holding. As I took it, I realized that a couple of hard, heavy objects had been stuffed inside the envelope. Without any further delay I ripped it opened.

A sudden rush of panic made my blood pressure drop nearly to the point of collapse when I slid the first item out of the envelope. It was my father's lighter—wrapped in a small plastic bag and covered in coagulated blood. The second item was a stop watch. Along with it was a note:

I hope you realize what this means, Victor. And yes, the blood belongs to her. But don't worry; she's still alive... for now. For how much longer, though, will be entirely up to you.

I want you to meet me on the rooftop of this hotel in exactly five minutes. And don't worry. I'll know exactly when to start counting. Let's just say I can see your every move from where I'm standing. And if I see you going back to the boat to tell your little princess what's going on, or if I hear any sirens approaching, I will pluck the pretty little green eyes of the one you left behind. You may think of this as cowardice. But I assure you, Victor, all I want is to give you the choice you took away from me...

By the time I'd finished reading, my entire blood supply had drained to my feet. “Oh my God!” the receptionist exclaimed with concern. “Are you okay? You look as if you've just seen a ghost.”

“Who gave you this envelope?” I demanded.

“A man,” she answered nervously. “He was scarred. He had dark hair and wore sunglasses. I've never seen him before. I doubt he's even staying in the hotel. Why?” she asked. “Is there anything wrong? Should I call for help?”

“No!” I replied curtly. “Just tell me how to get to the roof.”

“The roof?” she hesitated, confused. “Well, you can't—”

“How do I get up there?”

The poor girl cringed at my shout and pointed me to the end of the corridor. “The service elevator,” she said.

I bolted towards the corridor and pushed the call button for the elevator frantically. As the doors opened I saw the frightened receptionist calling for help, but it was too late. My future was already in motion, and there was nothing that could stop it now. As my hypersenses ignited and reached toward the roof, I realized that they were being damped down somehow, just as they had been late the night before when the dull thud had awakened me. I was desperately worried now, wondering what that had been, but I didn't have time to worry about it. I had to save Sarah. I jumped into the elevator before the doors were quite open and jabbed the button for the top floor—then waited for the future to unfold.

When the doors of the elevator opened again, I was on the roof of the seventeen-story structure. The wind was very strong, but I was in no danger of being blown off the building. Still, it was enough to make my knees quiver as I avoided looking at the miniaturized version of the city below. I stalked over the gravelly surface, looking for the author of the blood-splattered note; but all I could see was tarry gravel and a cooling tower situated in the middle of the wide space.

Soon, I found myself facing south towards the ocean. A myriad of tiny sailboats rested peacefully in the harbor, and the first thing that popped into my mind was Yvette. She was in one of them, waiting for me to come back, waiting for something I was now beginning to think was never going to happen.

A stifled scream caused me to whirl toward the farthest corner of the roof, where what I saw stoked my chest with panic again. Sarah was there, gagged, and chained to a post. A strange metal device, locked to her chains, hung in front of her at chest level. On the ledge not too far from her, a tall, dark-haired man stood in a regal pose, head held high and hands clasped behind his back. And though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was overseeing the harbor, like a hawk stalking its prey.

“I'm so glad you could join us, Victor,” the man on the ledge said casually. And though his eyes had not yet met my stunned glare, his voice was enough to reveal his identity. “Though you barely made it. I hope you're not too out of shape.”

I could feel my heart pounding like a trip-hammer as I listened to his voice. “Oh, my God,” I whispered in disbelief. “I thought you were—”

“Dead?” he interrupted, looking over his shoulder and allowing me to meet his sulfuric glare. “No,” he said contemptuously. “Though a part of me did die the moment you let go of that platform… You do remember that, don't you, Victor?” His soft voice dripped with acidic hatred.

He turned to face me then, revealing the horrifying souvenir the warehouse explosion had left him. It was staggering to see the third-degree burns that had permanently scarred the right side of his face—deep, gruesome marks that stretched from his ear down along the side of his neck. It pained me to cast my eyes away.

“Damian.” I finally found the strength to say his name. “I'll never be able to take back what happened that night. And only God knows how sorry I am. But you were there. And you know that I did everything in my power to save her—”

“But in the end you had to make a choice—and you did, didn't you?”

“Damian, please!”

He hopped from the ledge onto the gravelly roof. Sarah's eyes kept piercing me with panic as blood dripped from her brow. “I wonder,” Damian said, with an analytical tone this time. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked warily.

“Choose, of course. Was it an impetuous, last-second decision?” He paused to run his burned fingers through Sara's red curls. “Or did you run your famous numbers in your head?” He waited for my answer, but I gave him nothing. “Tell me!” he pressed, pulling Sarah's hair so violently that her tears began to flow.

“All right!” I conceded desperately. “You're right… I did run the numbers. And you know goddamn well I didn't have a choice! Walker killed your wife long before we even got there, Damian! The person we tried to safe that night was no longer your wife! And if you refuse to believe the truth, then there's nothing I can do.” I paused for a moment, trying to calm myself down. My next words were as sincere as the guilt I'd been carrying around in my heart. “Not a day goes by that I don't regret what happened to Sonya, Damian… and I am sorry. I really am. But she's gone. Now, you can either mourn her or avenge her. It's up to you. And if you've chosen to believe that I am the one responsible for her death… then I accept your grudge. But don't bring any more innocent people into this. Let Sarah go, and deal with me. That is what you want, isn't it? To kill me? Well, here I am. Let her go, and let's finish this.”

“Well, Victor,” Damian chuckled, “I have to admit, that was a pretty impressive speech. But now let me tell you what I think: I think that behind your Boy Scout façade you're nothing but a coward and a hypocrite. And in regards to your decision, I think you knew exactly what you were doing and why. Although I still can't figure out who you were really trying to safe that night. Was it your little princess on the boat? Or the martyr who agreed to let you go?” He stroked Sarah's head.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No?” he prompted jeeringly. “Well, let me get you up to speed, Romeo. These two girls leveled with each other on our way to R.C. Labs, and apparently this one took the higher road.” He snorted in disgust. “I have to say, though: what these two girls see in you is beyond me. You're a disgrace to evolution. Look at you! You were offered the gift of unlimited power, and what did you do? You spat on it and neutered it, like it was nothing but a vicious mongrel. Oh, yes… I know what you did, Victor.”

I swallowed hard and tried to control the tremor in my voice as I replied, “This power, Damian—it changes who you really are. Don't you see? It's changed you. What happened to you, Damian? What happened to the man who once talked to me with so much faith?”

“Faith?” he shouted angrily, his sulfur-yellow eyes glowing. “You took that from me too!”

“Then kill me!” I told him. “Kill me and get this over and done with! But be a man, Damian. Be a man and let her go. This is between you and me… nobody else.” My anger boosted my hypersenses, allowing me to cut through whatever was blocking them to feel Damian at the very reach of my powers. I had agreed for him to have his shot at revenge, but that didn't mean I was going down without a fight—although hurting him was the last thing I wanted. But I guess fate couldn't have cared less about what I wanted. A confrontation had been set, and I couldn't back out now; so I clenched my fists and waited for his move.

Damian looked upon my clenched fists and then raised his eyes with disgust. “I think you're missing the point, Victor. I'm not here to kill you. I'm not even going to fight you. That would be too easy. Too quick… too merciful.”

“Then what the hell do you want?” I demanded.

“I've told you. I just want to give you the choice that you took away from me.” He stepped away from Sarah and took a small hand device out of his jacket pocket. “I'm going to give you the choice to save the one you really love.” Then he added, “Although I'm not sure you even know who that person is. But don't worry. I'm going to help you decide the same way you decided to let my wife die. By running your goddamn numbers.”

“Damian, what did you do?” I asked, terrified.

“Just like NASA, I doubled up on everything!” He laughed disturbingly. “Now, I want you to pay attention, because I'm not going to repeat myself—and believe me, every single detail counts. Every variable, as you call them, may represent the difference between who lives and who dies, you understand?” My silence was proof he had gotten my full attention—that and my angry glare.

“Good!” he crowed. “First off, I want you to know that Dr. Walker's the reason I'm still alive. He saved me from the fire, and he helped me understand that killing him was not in my best interests… But that's another story that I may tell you some other time. The reason I bring him up is because his new friendship has allowed me to get my hands on his rather large cache of military-grade equipment and weaponry. Wonderful toys, really, like the one Ginger here has attached to her chest. I'm sure you've noticed.”

I nodded sharply.

“Well, let me tell you what it is. It's a very complicated explosive device, powerful enough to blow the entire roof off this nice, shiny building. Can you imagine what it would do to Miss Carrot-Top here?” He laughed and began to pace as I listened quietly to his words, trying to gather as much information as he'd allow me. “But that's not the best part,” he continued. “You see this remote detonator?” He showed me the device in his hand. “This baby is not only linked to this particular bomb, but to yet another of the same explosive charge and blast radius.” He looked at me and smiled ominously. “Can you guess where the other explosive is, Victor?”

His words filled my heart with dread, and I couldn't speak.

“You know,” he continued, “When Mitch finally got ahold of me and told me about the deal he'd put together to sell my boat…” He trailed off ironically. “I mean, what were the odds, right?” He laughed wistfully, looking upon the detonator. “You know, I almost felt sad when I planted the explosive on the bow—”

“You bastard!” I whispered despairingly, remembering the loud thud that had awakened me in the middle of the night. Now everything made sense: my senses going haywire, Mitch's insistence on leaving Yvette alone in the boat, and even the goddamn nickname he had used for the sale… Mr. B. Or should I say, Mr. Damian Black. “If you hurt her, I swear—”

“You'll do what?” he challenged. “Kill me?”

“Give me the detonator, Damian,” I demanded.

He laughed. “I'll tell you what… if you manage to take it from my hand, I'll let you have it, all right? Come on, give it your best shot!” he taunted, holding the detonator at arm's length.  

I lunged forward with my hand aimed at the detonator, ready to pluck it out of his hand. But a simple wave of his hand stopped me in my tracks. An invisible choker tightened around my neck and lifted me from the ground, my feet dangling as I brought my hands to my throat, gasping desperately for air. Another wave of his hand was enough to toss me away like a crumbled piece of paper. I crashed into the cooling tower, completely defeated by his extraordinary display of power.

“You idiot,” he growled. “Did you really think your feeble abilities could ever match mine? I haven't even reached my peak yet. You're more pathetic than I thought! You limited your power when you blocked the absorption of dark energy—you could never be a match for me now.” He stood there, watching me twist and groan in pain against the crumbled metal of the cooling tower. “Now, here's what's going to happen.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and squatted in front of me. “You're going to run the numbers according to my design. And whether you like it or not, you are going to choose which one of these two lovely ladies is going to die today.” He threw the piece of paper in my face. “These are the bomb disarming sequences. Now pay attention, because you're going to need every variable to make your final decision.