Predominance (39 page)

“The Victor you loved is dead,” I said coldly, “and nothing in the world can bring him back.” I considered her for a moment as the last spark of humanity fizzled in my cold heart. “If you really loved him,” I told her, “then you know what to do.”

Her eyes came back to life then, and she refocused her aim at my head. Her eyes looked determined now, and no more tears escaped from them. As she began to pull the trigger, my senses alerted me of the danger, allowing me to slip into the slow motion trance in which I was rendered vulnerable to my surroundings. For I focused on Sarah and on Sarah alone. I wanted to sense her, to feel her one last time before jumping to the Other Side to be with Yvette and my father. Her heart was beating faster than I'd ever sensed it before, and her breathing was rapid; but her hands were steady now, her jaw taut, as if ready to carry out the most difficult decision of her life.

I could sense the gun's mechanism moving now, the hammer pulling back. But I wasn't going to stop it. I wanted this; or at least, that last puny grain of humanity left in me did. In a fraction of a second I considered death as fulfilling as my desire for revenge, perhaps even more. But Sarah needed to hurry, because that grain of humanity left was fast disappearing inside my hardening heart.

The bullet was fired, leaving the smoky gun barrel behind. A strange feeling of relief washed over me, yet I wasn't sure what to make of it. I suppose that, deep inside my wretched soul, I really was hoping to be on my way to the netherworld, where, if I was lucky enough, I just might find my Yvee. But as I watched the bullet approach, I realized its trajectory was off. My last tinge of humanity vanished then, and rage took over. Stupid wench, she couldn't even aim worth a damn! My slow-motion trance broke abruptly as the projectile passed me by, missing completely.

Yet I managed to follow its trail, watching the bullet pierce the shoulder of a cop behind me. The gun in his hands suggested he was just seconds away from killing me. The injured man fell on the ground cursing at Sarah, who regarded him with a black look as she finally lowered the gun. I kicked the gun away from the cop's hand and turned to Sarah with angry eyes. “You missed!” I accused.

“I never miss,” she corrected flatly.

“You shouldn't have done that,” I said. “Now you'll never have that chance again.”

“I know.” She dropped the gun and ran to me with open arms. She threw her arms around me and buried her head in my chest, as if planning to never let go. But I couldn't hug her back; I was indifferent to her pain now. At the same time, though, I didn't want her to hurt anymore. I doubt I felt compassion, but rather a sense of righteousness. Even with my new personality, I never thought of myself as evil. Surrendering to the force of this dark energy had merely adjusted my perception to the true reality.

I still wanted to do good, to do what was right. Only 'good' and 'right' were now based solely on my own point of view. Sarah had suffered enough, and she didn't deserve to be hurt any further. Letting her go was only right, just as finding Damian to rip his throat out was right. And so was killing every single person involved in the creation and maintenance of R.C. Labs, starting with Dr. Walker. Every person. Anyone who became an obstacle to my plans…well, in my eyes they would become an evil hindrance, trying to stop me from fulfilling my sense of what was good and right. Therefore they would have to die.

Sensing the rotors of helicopters approaching from miles away made me realize it was time for me to get moving. So I took Sarah by the shoulders and pushed her away from me. “Go home, Sarah. There's nothing more you can do for me. It's time for you to put this behind you. Go, and never look back.”

“No! I won't leave you! I'm coming with you.”

“There's no redemption or absolution where I'm going, Sarah. Following me will be the biggest mistake you'll ever make in your life, and will only
cause you pain.” I paused, discovering that my mind was now able to search her feelings, as it had with Yvette before. “I can read you now,” I told her, “and what you're feeling is something I'll never be able to feel again… do you understand? I have nothing to give you. Nothing to offer you but pain and misery. The person you want me to be, the man you want to go with, is no longer here.”

I felt Sarah's eyes fill with tears of dismay as I turned and began my first steps on the dark path poor Roger had warned me about, a path that had only one end. My future was now a clear equation filled with unknown variables, variables I needed to find and fit into place in order to obtain my desired outcome: a final confrontation with my nemesis. But I knew this wasn't going to be easy, especially considering Damian's alliance with Walker. Finding these variables might just take me some time, I thought, although I was prepared to spend the rest of my life avenging my angel.

But then one of the variables presented itself as I walked down the burning boulevard, one that in my previous incarnation I wouldn't have allowed myself to use. The rear window of a crashed van in the middle of the street reflected Sarah behind me. She was exactly as my last words had left her: dismayed, speechless, and frozen statue-still. But then a deep breath brought her back to life, and she fiercely wiped the tears off her face. Then she crouched and picked up the gun she had dropped before, along with the one I'd kicked out of the cop's hand.

She got to her feet and began to walk in my direction, tucking both guns into the waist of her jeans, one in the back and one in the front, as if ready to confront all the demons she knew lay ahead. As I watched her pick up her pace, I realized she had made her decision. She was coming with me. In spite of all my efforts to keep her out of harm's way, she was coming with me. I couldn't help but twist a painful smile as I realized the truth: there was nothing I could have said to Sarah that would have kept her away. She was in love... Just like Victor once was. And just like Victor, she would ignore any logic and reason if that prevented her from being close to the one she loved.

It almost made me feel jealous, because I wasn't Victor… not anymore. I was now that dark counterpart he'd dreaded so much. The one who, despite his best efforts, was always meant to govern his mind. There was never an alternative, cure, or escape. I was always meant to be the one to prevail. I understood it then better than ever before. As I walked down the burning road, tightening my fist, I tasted the power overflowing my mind—the darkness ruling my heart, the malevolence glowing in my eyes.

The predominance of evil was finally complete.

The List

AFTER WATCHING WHAT
became known as the Shoreline Village Incident from afar, Damian Black returned to Ketchikan, where Dr. Walker had begun working on his latest protocol. According to him, it would endow Damian with the abilities he had expected from Yvette Montgomery, yet never had the chance to harness. That was the bargain Dr. Walker had made with Damian: he wanted to continue to probe into the mysterious energy he had discovered. He had convinced Damian that if they worked together, they'd be able to unravel all its secrets—including the one that would allow them to communicate with the energy that leaves the body after one dies.

Damian, obsessed with the idea of speaking again with his dead wife, agreed to work with Walker. They both had a common interest now, as well as a common enemy. Victor, who had turned to malevolence, was coming for revenge, and they both knew it.

“He will come,” Damian said to Walker. “I can assure you of that.”

“You should've killed him when you had the chance,” Walker snapped.

“That wasn't part of my plan,” Damian explained calmly. “I never meant to kill him. I'm afraid I had ulterior motives, Doctor. As long as Victor presents a threat to you, you'll have no choice but to honor the agreement you've made with me.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Walker asked with a taunting smile.

Damian sprang from where he was sitting and walked menacingly towards Walker. “Victor's growing stronger by the minute, and he's no longer the goody-goody Boy Scout he was before. And when he finds you—because believe me, he will find you—the only thing standing between his hand and your throat will be me. So I'd suggest you consider your situation before even trying screwing with me.”

Walker smiled nervously. “Well, then. If that's the case, you should also remember that I'm the one who can help increase your powers. And knowing what I know about Victor, you're going to need all the help you can get.”

Damian considered for a moment and said, “Then I guess we're partners after all,” sticking his hand out.

Dr. Walker smiled and shook his hand. “Indeed we are.”     

Back in California, Victor and Sarah had managed to elude the LAPD, with the judicious application of Victor's new-found powers. After retrieving his belongings from the hotel room he'd once shared with Yvette, he decided to hijack a car and drive two hours south into Mexico. Once in Tijuana, they stopped to take stock of the situation.

Victor sat by the window of a small bar and ordered a drink. While Sarah watched, he set his backpack on the table and began to go through his things. His newly gray eyes narrowed with confusion as he pulled a stack of letters out of his pack—the same stack of letters he'd found in Yvette's room before he'd rescued her from R.C. Labs.

He untied the red ribbon that bound them together and began to read the first one on the pile, which had an envelope marked “Return to Sender.”

Dear Dad,

I know I should probably stop writing you letters, since you have never answered any of them. But writing to you makes me feel like I haven't lost you completely. Even with your silence I feel less alone… Anyway, I'm happy to tell you that I've finally completed my
intense program at the dance conservatory, and that I'll soon be performing in the city. I'm very excited, because it's the same role Mom performed last on Broadway. I only wish I could be as good as she was. I know it sounds strange because she's gone, but… I really hope I can make her proud. Perhaps one day, you could be proud of me too. I know it's a long shot, but I'd love for you to come and see me on opening night. Perhaps we can use this as an excuse for you to finally come out of hiding and answer the question that's been haunting me for years… Why?

Victor stopped reading, and pondered for a moment as an idea struck him. After a pregnant pause, he pulled a pen and paper out of his backpack and began to write.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked him, taking a sip from her beer.

“I'm making a little list,” Victor said casually.

“A list of what?” she asked.

Victor stopped and leaned over the table, letting out a long sigh, his fingers interlocked. “I just realized that Yvette was hurt by a lot more people than I thought. And if I'm to render justice, I should be thorough—hence the list. These are the names of the people I'm planning on paying a visit to before I die.” He smiled ominously.

“I thought your plan was to confront Damian,” she said nervously, knowing full well what he meant by paying a visit. She took another sip of her beer, trying to cover her dread.

“Don't worry,” Victor said, “We'll get there.” He ordered another drink and continued with his list. When he was finished, he slid the list across the table and raised his eyes to meet Sarah's. “Now, some of these people may be difficult to find. But I want you to track them down. I'm sure you'll be better at it than I.”

Sarah looked at the long list and clenched her jaw, feeling Victor's eyes scrutinizing her for hesitancy. She knew that was what he wanted: he was only waiting for her to show the slightest sign of weakness, so he could leave her behind and disappear on her forever. But Sarah wasn't going to let that happen. She loved him too much. Besides, she had a plan of her own—and she knew that in order to have the slightest shot at it, she needed to gain this...Dark Victor's complete trust. She was convinced that there was still good in him somewhere—and that if pain had made him turn away from good, then maybe love could make him turn away from evil. Maybe her love.

“Is there a problem?” Victor asked, suspicious yet disturbingly calm.

Sarah's eyes rose from the list and met Victor's, which were studying her every move. “No,” she said, her voice hard. “There's no problem.”

“I wonder how much I should trust you,” Victor said, a dubious smile on his face.

“You said you can read my feelings,” Sarah noted. “You tell me.”

Victor's smile broadened.

Sarah realized then that she had accomplished the first part of her plan, yet she knew the next part was going to be a lot harder. She needed to make him fall in love with her—strongly enough to make him turn away from evil. But she didn't know how deep his feelings were buried, or how long it was going to take to make them resurface. Of one thing she was absolutely sure, however. She was going to make it happen, or die with him while trying. “So,” she began with a brand new demeanor, a flirty smile on her face. “To what should we toast?”

“Vengeance?” Victor proposed.

Sarah frowned. “No. To new beginnings.”

Victor smiled, lifted his glass in the air, and drank.

***

Meanwhile, at Long Beach Memorial Hospital, Detective Lawrence Perry of the LAPD was walking down the shiny white corridor with his partner, Detective Juana Pesantes. She was giving him the latest report on what had happened at the Hyatt Regency as well as at Shoreline Village.

“So how many fatalities do we have so far?” Detective Perry interrupted.

“Five,” Pesantes answered quickly, gesturing with a folder in her hands. “Including a boat broker named Mitch Goodman, who was found in one of the hotel rooms with his neck twisted so far around it was facing backwards. Forensics is having a hard time determining how that was possible. Same with one of the officers who responded to the Shoreline Village Incident.”

“Hmm,” Perry considered. “What about injuries?”

“Twenty police officers and ten civilians. Most of them were too close to the second explosion at the pier. Oh, this way.” She led the way to the next corridor.

“What do we know about our suspects?”

“They've been identified as Victor Bellator and Sarah Grey. Intel on Bellator was provided by a Captain Black from the DOD during the standoff. Bellator was said to be armed and extremely dangerous. We're still trying to get more information on the woman.”

Perry stopped in his tracks and mused. “The DOD? You mean the Department of Defense? Are they giving us any jurisdictional crap about this?”

“No, not at all,” Pesantes said, sounding a bit confused herself. “They're actually asking us to remain involved in the investigation.”

Perry exhaled heavily. “What do you make of all this?”

“I don't know,” she sighed. “I guess we're going to have to wait until one of the injured officers can make a statement about what happened.”

“You mean none of them are ready to talk yet?”

“I'm afraid most of them are still in ICU.”

Perry scowled at Pesantes. “Then why the hell did you ask me to meet you here?”

“Well, there's something else. Come on.” She walked him to a restricted room and stopped at the door. “There.”

Perry looked through the grilled window with narrowed eyes. “Who is she?” he asked, looking at a girl sleeping on the bed.

“Exactly,” she replied, looking at her folder again. “She's been listed as a Jane Doe: Female Caucasian, early twenties, black over blue, and apparently absolutely no memory of who she is. But if you ask me, I think she may be involved in what happened.”

“What makes you think that?” Perry asked, intrigued.

“Well, for one thing, she was holding this when she was pulled out of the water.” Pesantes showed Perry a dog-eared picture with a single person in it.

Perry's eyes widened as he took it in his hands. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Pesantes confirmed. “What do you want me to do with her?”

Perry looked through the window again and pondered. “Who else knows about her?” he asked.

“Just you, me, the guards, and the medical staff.”

“Let's keep it that way, Pesantes. And move her into protective custody as soon as the doctor gives the okay. Something tells me this girl may be in danger. Look at her,” he said, gazing at her with fatherly eyes. “You see a suspect, but I see a target.”

Pesantes considered the girl with a troubled look on her face. “Yeah, well… either way, I have a bad feeling about this.”