Chimera

Twenty-three Raw Business

The main HQ phone rang. My brain was racing with the discovery of six intruders, and I almost didn’t answer.

“HQ, and make it fast,” I snapped into the phone.

“This is Joe Meade, one of the guards at the tower,” a deep male voice said. “I was coming on shift and found your friend Simon Hewitt unconscious near your parking lot.”

Well, that explains how the intruders got the puddle-jumper code.

“Is he alive?”

“Yeah. What’s—”

“We have a small situation over here. No one gets near our parking lot until you hear from me, do you understand?”

Maybe Joe Meade thought he was talking to Trance, because he piped in with a strong, “Yes, ma’am,” and then hung up. I had no clue how I’d call him back later, but at least no one else was coming over the harbor. I had enough to deal with.

The cluster of six dots was inside the building. I dashed to the secured weapons locker at the rear of the room and helped myself to a Coltson. By the time I got back to the computer, the dots had broken up. Two were moving toward the room where I’d left Sasha and the others. Four (including the mind-boggling identified blue dot) were heading for the infirmary.

I opened the loudspeaker. “Heads up, folks, we have intruders. Two heading your way, Sasha.”

My voice echoed down the hall of the mostly empty building and gave me an odd sense of comfort. Whoever these assholes were, they had fewer targets, and those targets still packed a hell of a power punch. Trusting Sasha to take care of half those targets, I made tracks for the infirmary.

The waiting area was empty. I took slow, careful steps toward the door into the private area, straining to hear something. Anything to indicate—

I felt the blow seconds after I stopped rolling across the carpet. My chest ached something fierce, and I couldn’t get a solid breath. My lungs seized as I tried to inhale, and my vision blurred. I’d lost my gun and my sense of equilibrium. My ears hadn’t stopped functioning, though, and I distinctly heard the sounds of a little boy sobbing.

Invisible people. Little boy. Simon unconscious.

Holy shit, they have Andrew.

Ethan’s half-brother Andrew had an invisibility power that affected people near him. All he had to do was concentrate on them, and they’d be as impossible to see as he was, for as long as he wished it. He’d been here before, which accounted for the identified power signature. If someone had hurt Andrew, Ethan would rip out each of their livers and feed it to the guilty party.

The invisible attacker didn’t come at me again. So this is defense, not offense. Interesting.

I got myself back under control and listened. Used every trick Gage had ever taught me about tracking someone. The whisper of a foot over carpet. The softer sounds of Andrew’s gasps and hiccups. The rustle of fabric as it came closer, hopefully someone checking to see if I was conscious or not.

The rustling stopped. Close enough.

I rolled and lashed out at crotch level with my left hand, flexing it at the same time. The male phantom gasped and groaned as I smashed my fist into his invisible junk. Something swatted at my hand, so I kicked up hard. My foot connected with bone and the man clunked to the ground. He flashed into view.

He was my age, pale, bald, dressed in what looked like freaking Special Forces clothes—all black with lots of pockets. He also had the weirdest things attached to his head behind his ears, looping up toward his eyes like the world’s most bizarre headgear. Little yellow lights blinked along the gear. For a moment I thought he was wearing gloves, until I realized his hands were outlined in gray metal.

“Holy hell,” I said. What was he, anyway?

“Renee?” Andrew was running toward me, tears streaming down his face. The poor kid couldn’t go a month without someone traumatizing him, but I didn’t have time to console him.

I rolled up off the floor and gave him a rude push toward the door. “Get out of here, Andrew.”

“They made me help, I’m sorry, they made me!”

“I know, kiddo, it’s okay. I want you to go outside and hide, okay? Hide really well, so no one can find you.”

“Okay.”

Smart kid that he was, he ran.

The air moved, and I ducked in time to miss a blow from Robo-Man that smashed into the wall and right through a layer of drywall and stone. He kicked. It caught my shin like a baseball bat, and I stumbled through the infirmary door and into the corridor. He came at me like something out of a nightmare, determined and without any real facial expression. A monster with one mission—hurt and destroy.

Thuds and shouts echoed down the hall. I couldn’t get to those kids, couldn’t save them, until I took care of Robo-Man.

I flexed a leg and swept his feet out from under him. His ass hit the hard floor, and while my leg was out, I drove my heel into his junk a second time. I pulled back, then lunged past him to get into the infirmary. Two more strangers were still in there with my friends.

Apparently two shots to the nuts weren’t enough to fell Robo-Man, because he tackled me to the floor before I reached the doorway. His incredible weight pressed me flat onto the tiled floor, making my ribs ache with the pressure. Hands closed around my throat. He yanked me up to my feet and wrenched me back at the same time, and then I was in a chokehold I couldn’t break.

I flexed my legs out, twining around his ankles. We crashed backward to the floor, but he didn’t let go. His hold didn’t budge. Air got precious. My face flushed. I reached backward with my left hand and flexed out, wrapping that wrist tight around his throat. We were in a choke-off and I had no idea who’d win.

I squeezed, and as my own air cut off, I debated flexing tight enough to snap his neck. He was choking slowly, his intent clearly to knock me unconscious, not to kill. As much as I didn’t want to kill him, I also didn’t want to be unconscious and at his fucking mercy. I tried flexing my windpipe a little, stretching it out enough to get a bit of extra air down.

It kind of worked. He didn’t notice the change and didn’t increase pressure while oxygen brightened the darkness in the corners of my vision. The sounds from down the hall increased. I needed to get out of this, so I let my body go limp. Let every limb retract to its original shape, while keeping my windpipe flexed. Robo-Man held his grip a few seconds longer, then allowed me to slide to the floor. My head bounced a little hard but I managed not to groan or flinch. I slitted my eyelids and watched his booted feet walk toward the infirmary.

Oh, no, you don’t.

I flexed my left hand out, grabbed his left foot, and pulled. He toppled sideways, smashing his face into the wall. I wrapped my wrist around his ankle and squeezed until he screamed. I felt bone snap and something wet coated my skin. He kicked with his other foot and hit my left arm hard enough to break my hold. I pulled back and away, and he curled forward, groaning.

“Renee?”

The shout came from down the hall. One of the Greens from upstairs, a guy who insisted we call him Able, walked toward me, his face pale and eyes wide. Idiot. “Get back to your room,” I said.

He was already within ten feet of me, and he didn’t stop coming until he’d gotten the entire way, the fool. He stared at the infirmary door while I lunged to my feet, aching in unnamable places. Maybe he could be useful. His power had something to do with kinetic energy and—

The shadows moved in my peripheral vision, and I pivoted. Two new figures stood in the infirmary doorway. One was an almost identical copy of Robo-Man, right down to the shaved head and gear, only she was a girl. The other person was Nancy Bennett, aka Switch, and she was holding my gun.

Without thinking, I moved in front of Able, keeping myself between his stupid ass and the barrel of that gun.

Robo-Chick helped Robo-Man stand up, letting him lean on her while his foot bled all over our floor.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“To make amends for a few of my worst mistakes,” Switch replied. She sounded weary, old, just plain worn out.

I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her. “By sneaking on to our island and picking a fight? Or by putting our people in danger with that huge-ass fire at Stratfield?”

“The diversion was necessary.”

“For?”

Her eyebrows jumped, but she didn’t answer my question. “A series of secondary explosions are set to go off at Stratfield in five minutes. Allow us to return to your copter and leave the island, and you have my word that I will disarm them.”

“And if I say no?”

“Richmond will be cleaning up the damage for weeks, and you’ll be planning quite a few funerals.”

We had twenty people at Stratfield by now. I didn’t trust her, but we were both all-in and she had every damned wild card in her hand this time.

“What were you doing in the infirmary?” I asked. Killing Bethany and Landon? Doing what your clone minions couldn’t? God, how am I going to I tell Derek?

“Four minutes thirty seconds, Flex,” Switch said.

“Fine.” I swept one hand at the empty hall. “Go.”

Robo-Chick touched the implant next to her left ear, then began hauling Robo-Man down the hall toward the main entrance. Switch followed, the Coltson still aimed at me. I trailed after her, even though I was desperate to know what she’d done in the infirmary. I had to see this through first. Maybe somehow get the drop on her so she didn’t escape.

The sun was nearly down, casting the courtyard in shadows and putting a chill in the air. Two more men just like Robo-Man joined them at the puddle-jumper. Their faces were different enough that they probably weren’t related, but each one had the resigned expression of a soldier who knew no other purpose than following orders. And underneath that technology stuck to their heads, they were (at least according to our security scans) still Meta.

What the hell had been done to them?

The four Robo-soldiers climbed into the puddle-jumper. Switch didn’t. They powered up and flew away like that had been the plan the entire time. They headed toward southern New Jersey, not the observation tower, so any chance of Joe Meade stopping them evaporated.

“I’m a person of my word,” Switch said. Without lowering the Coltson, she removed a small device from her pocket. She typed something into it. “Your people in Richmond are safe from me.”

We were alone in the courtyard, just me and Switch. The person also known as Uncle, who’d caused us so much pain this past week. Who’d caused other people so much pain decades ago by stealing their children and faking their deaths. As desperate as I was to understand her reasons, all I could do was stand there and hate her.

“Why did you stay?” I asked. “Switching sides again, Switch?”

“No one turns on the Overseer and survives, Flex. Not even me.”

“Why not? Who is the Overseer?”

“He never should have sent them after her.”

“After who? Bethany?”

Switch took something out of her pocket and held it up. A flash drive. She lightly tossed it to me. “There are two videos on there,” Switch said. “Video one is for the kids, from Uncle. Please let them watch it in private first.”

“Okay.” I clutched the drive hard to keep my hand from shaking. She was giving me instructions, which meant she wasn’t going to shoot me. So what was going on? “What about the second video?”

“The second video is for Dahlia.”

“Dahlia?”

Switch pressed the muzzle of the gun to the underside of her chin and squeezed the trigger.

I’d thrown up on the grass twice before Sasha found me outside by the entrance steps. She helped me stand, seeming more confused than hurt.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “She killed herself.”

“Is that . . . is that Switch? Uncle?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Sasha swallowed hard, her glittery eyes shiny with tears. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, trust me.” I pulled out of her hold, grateful for the help but perfectly able to stand on my own.

Dahlia. Infirmary.

I was running before I even realized it, straight to the infirmary, with Sasha shadowing me—and thankfully eighty-sixing the questions I couldn’t answer. Sasha’s people and my two Greens were in the corridor near the infirmary.

“There’s a little boy named Andrew hiding outside somewhere,” I said to no one in particular. “Tell him Renee says it’s okay to come out.”

I hustled through the waiting area and into the private hallway. Persistent thudding came from behind Kinsey’s closed office door. I shoved it open and earned a grunt as it hit something. The obstacle moved, and I got the door open the whole way. Dr. Kinsey was on the floor, mouth gagged with medical tape, his wrists and ankles bound with plastic zip ties.

“Untie him,” I said to Sasha, who knelt and tried to unwind the tape around his mouth.

The door to Double Trouble’s room was open, the bed empty. My heart slammed double-time against my ribs. I checked Landon’s and Maddie’s rooms next. They were both fine—alert and confused, with no additional wounds.

To my utter shock and relief, I fell right over Noah when I burst into Bethany’s room. He was on the floor, curled onto his right side, half awake. I crawled to him on my hands and knees and grabbed his shoulder.

“Noah, it’s Renee. Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

He reached up to clutch my hand, face scrunching in obvious pain. He let out a long, low groan.

“Noah? Did they hurt you?”

“My head,” he said.

“They hit you in the head?”

“No, not that. Hurts . . . can’t . . .”

Dr. Kinsey stumbled through the door and knelt opposite me. “Noah? Son, what happened?”

Noah twisted his neck and blinked up at his father. The green was back in his eyes, some of the shadows below them gone. But any relief at those changes shattered into horror when his face crumpled and he said, “She’s gone, Dad. I can’t feel her anymore.”

“What?”

“Dahlia’s gone.” The words ended on a choked gasp. Dr. Kinsey pulled his son into his arms and held him while he shook.

Dahlia was gone.

So why had Switch given me a video meant for her?

Communication with our people in the field was mysteriously restored while we were helping Noah back into bed. Sasha reported that no one in Virginia was dead and they were working swiftly toward managing the blaze. She didn’t tell them what had happened to us. She said that was my job.

Nice kid.

I called Teresa back while Sasha watched her video gift from Uncle. Teresa didn’t sound like she had the energy to flip out, and she went really quiet when I told her about Dahlia.

“He hasn’t felt her since he woke up,” I said.

“I don’t understand,” Teresa said, her voice rough with emotion (and probably smoke inhalation).

“Kinsey’s theory is that Switch was somehow protecting the hybrid-Changeling project. Nancy Bennett’s name was on some of the initial project research, and they worked together during its development. She must have known Noah and Aaron were the only two surviving Changelings.”

“And then we send her information saying that Dahlia’s absorption is killing both her and Noah.”

“So she sets up her chance to get over here and separate them, saving Ace the Changeling and killing Dahlia.”

“She went through a lot of trouble just to get on to the island.”

“Maybe this was her way of quitting her job?”

Teresa snorted hard, and I heard the tears in her voice. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, T. Listen, Switch left us two videos before she blew her brains out. Maybe I’ll get some more answers from those.”

“Let me know what you find.”

“Duh.”

“How’s Andrew?”

“Resilient. Simon wants to take him home, but Andrew insists on waiting until Ethan and Aaron get back.”

“He’s a tough kid.”

“Yeah. Be safe, T.”

The conversation had gone better than expected, but Teresa was probably in shock. So much had happened in the last week, and she was still dealing with the ongoing crisis in Virginia. I wandered into the rec room, to see the Junior Meta Squad in a circle around one of the computers, whispering and wiping away tears. I stood by the door until Sasha waved me over. She reset the video.

I planted myself behind them, five brave teenagers, and watched as an image of Uncle came to life on-screen.

“I cannot ever express to you children how much I regret what has happened these last few months,” he said. “One of the greatest joys of my life was watching each of you grow, teaching you and training you for what was to come. I know you’re all strong and capable, and you will thrive in this strange new world you’ve been thrust into. You’re home now, with others like you. Like us.

“I regret also that I never told you I was Meta, or about my double life. I was forbidden from telling you certain things by my supervisor. I did not always agree with the orders given to me, and I did what I could to protect you. I will never ask your forgiveness for Louis and Summer, or what was done to Landon and Bethany. I don’t deserve forgiveness. But I cannot be ordered to hurt you children again.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I love you all. No matter what else happens, please never doubt that. Take care of each other.”

The screen went black.

I watched it three more times, memorizing the words. Searching for hidden messages or meanings and finding none. Uncle had been following orders when he sent the clones after Bethany and Landon. He’d been following orders when he killed Louis and Summer. Orders very likely sent from the mysterious Overseer that Switch was unable to betray, even at the very end. Uncle had loved those kids and, in their tears, I knew they’d loved him, too.

The second video I watched with Dr. Kinsey, in his office. Noah said he didn’t want to see it, although I knew he’d change his mind at some point. Digesting the video’s contents took me and his dad a while, anyway, because it was totally not what I was expecting. Not even close. But some of the things that Switch said in that video didn’t track with forcing Dahlia out of Noah—in essence, killing her to save him.

The biggest surprise, though, came at the end, and we both agreed Teresa could decide what to do with that bundle of a bombshell.

Our people began to trickle home around one a.m. The first two waves were of the wounded and two people suffering chemical smoke inhalation—one of whom was Derek. He wore an oxygen mask and could walk with help, but his skin was sallow and he looked like a stiff wind could blow him over. He proved the theory by passing out before he even made it to the infirmary.

I checked on him when I could, in between welcoming others back, listening to stories of the rescue, and trying to field questions about our own local drama. All I wanted to do was curl up in a chair next to Derek and hold his hand—I finally understood how Teresa felt when Gage was injured. How helpless you feel, unable to offer comfort to someone you love because you need to do your job.

Ethan and Aaron were both filthy, but unhurt. Noah had left the infirmary a while ago for the seclusion of his room upstairs, and the pair went up to stay with him and avoid lending more chaos to the storm downstairs. Sebastian had a deep gash on his neck and Lacey’s wings had been burned. Rick and Marco were fine, and the former was whisked off quickly to watch the video that all of his “siblings” had already seen.

Teresa and Gage were in the last wave. We moved into the empty conference room, and Gage winced his way through my summary of events so far, including everything I’d seen on both videos, until finally excusing himself to go get some painkillers.

“He took a blow to his collarbone,” Teresa said after he left.

“Ouch.”

“So it sounds like we did get answers to some of our questions.”

“Some, but not all.”

“For example, if Dahlia was so important, why sacrifice her for the Changeling? And why leave a video for her?”

“Exactly.”

Teresa gave me a hard look. “Well, since we can’t ask Uncle anymore, I guess we’ll just have to ask the Overseer when we see him.”

“If we ever see him.”

“We will, Renee. Trust me, all of this is far from over.”

“As long as it’s over for today. Maybe the rest of the week. We need a vacation.”

She snorted laughter. “Yes, we do.” She rubbed her hands over her soot-streaked face. “I need to check in with Sasha. Why don’t you go see how Derek is doing?”

“Yeah, okay.”

We headed for the door together, a pair of battered, weary souls. Just outside, she touched my arm and we stopped. “If it means anything,” she said, “I would have done everything exactly the same way. With Switch, I mean.”

“You’d have orb-blasted those Robo-people into next week.”

“Take the compliment, Renee.”

I smiled, and I didn’t have to force it. “Thanks.”

“He was pretty awesome today, too, you know.”

“Who?”

“Thatcher. You two may not think of yourselves as heroes, but you are. Both of you.”

My eyes stung, and I hugged her to give myself a moment. She held me tight, and I was insanely grateful for my best friend.

A gentle hand stroking my hair startled me awake. Falling asleep with my butt in a hard chair and my head on the side of a bed wasn’t conducive to good posture, and a bolt of pain shot through my neck as I straightened. My folded arms, which had pillowed my head, came back alive with pins and needles.

Derek smiled at me from his hospital bed. He was off the oxygen, still receiving IV fluids, and had gone from yellowish to normally colored as the toxins were flushed out of his system. He still needed a shave, but I kept that to myself.

“Hey.” I hauled my aching body out of the chair and perched on the edge of the bed. He curled his hands around mine, and I squeezed tight. Grateful to have him here. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you breathing in chemicals is unhealthy?”

“It is definitely on my list of things to avoid in the future,” he said. “I heard you had some drama while we were gone.”

I didn’t know how much he’d heard on the trip home from Richmond, so I kept it simple. “Drama is one way to put it. You mind if I retell the story some other time?”

“Of course. You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” Mentally and physically exhausted, and then some. “Was it bad out there?”

“Pretty bad, but Teresa is an amazing leader. So is Gage.”

“They make a good team.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “So do you think my assistance will help fast-track me for an actual pardon? Because right now I have two very good reasons for not wanting to go back to Manhattan.”

“Two reasons?”

“I have a son I’m just beginning to get to know, and I’d like to be part of his life. And not from the visitation room at the tower.”

“I get the feeling Landon would like that. What’s the second reason?”

He untangled one of his hands and stroked my cheek. “I’d like to get to know you better, too, Renee Duvall.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. After you go, get at least twelve hours of sleep.”

I laughed at his deadpan delivery. “Yes, sir.” I brushed my lips across the knuckles of his free hand. “I’ll do everything I can to help you with that pardon. I promise.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that a week ago.”

“No bet.”

We sat together a while longer before fatigue began pushing on my eyelids. Derek had already dozed off, so I got up and left his room as quietly as I could.

A commotion of voices down the hall drew my attention. Rick poked his head out of Bethany’s room, eyes wild. “She’s waking up,” he said to no one in particular. “Get the doc!”

I rushed into Bethany’s room with Jessica on my heels. Rick was holding Bethany’s right hand and whispering her name over and over. Her eyes rolled behind the lids, and her lips twitched. I stared, shocked.

“I thought she was brain-dead,” I said. Had Dr. Kinsey’s tests been wrong?

“She can’t be,” Rick said. “Look at her.”

He had a point. Bethany continued fighting her way toward consciousness. Her face was still a Picasso of bruises and cuts, with her body just as battered, but she was trying. Dr. Kinsey rushed in and helped Jessica check Bethany’s vitals, as perplexed as I’d ever seen him.

Bethany’s eyelids slit apart enough for a hint of color to peek through. She blinked hard several times, and then she opened her eyes completely. She looked at the faces watching her, awareness sharpening her gaze even as confusion settled in. Her swollen lips tried to say something.

“You’re okay, Beth,” Rick said. “You scared us all to death.”

She ignored him, those startling eyes fixing on me. Startling in that they were bright blue, and I could have sworn they hadn’t been blue before. She swallowed and tried again, this time croaking out, “Noah?”

Everything around me grayed out except for the woman in the bed, whose simple inquiry drove home a realization with the force of a bullet to the brain. It all made perfect sense now. Switch had come here to free Double Trouble of each other, but not the way we’d assumed.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered. I looked into those familiar blue eyes, and I knew.

“What is it?” Rick asked. “What’s wrong with her?”

I glanced at Dr. Kinsey, whose ashen face told me he’d connected the dots, too. He met my gaze and nodded, expression filled with wonder and shock.

“We’ll go get Noah,” I said to her. “He’s fine, I promise.”

She tried to smile, then closed her eyes and drifted off.

“Why does she want to see Noah?” Rick asked. “I don’t get it.”

“Because Dr. Kinsey wasn’t wrong. Bethany didn’t wake up. She’s gone, Rick.”

He blanched. “Then what is this? Who was that?”

“That,” I said, throat clogging with relieved tears, “was Dahlia Perkins.”