Arc Angel (34 page)

This must be what they meant by having hysterics.

Miranda turned back to the museum door and took another deep breath, trying to regain control. Once she felt the laughter fading, she pulled the ID badge from her pocket, held it up to the small box next to the door and held her breath.

Beep. Green light. She was in.

Miranda pulled open the door and, without looking back, stepped inside.

She stood in a long, dark hallway. The security lighting, mounted along the ceiling, gave enough light to ensure she wouldn’t trip over anything as she navigated the building, but not enough to show her what lay at the other end of the hall. Keeping her back against the door she’d come through, Miranda stood perfectly still and tentatively checked to see if she’d regained her powers. She wasn’t ready to turn over the show to Arc Angel just yet, but she wanted to be sure she had access to power if she needed it. Even a clumsy bear can be dangerous.

Every fiber of her being sensed the power, well within her reach, waiting for her to gather it into herself. Relief and terror fought for dominance. Thanks to the electricity at her fingertips, she’d be ready for anything. Except for turning herself into Arc Angel permanently.

Miranda forced herself to move down the hallway, picturing the blueprints in her head for guidance. She should be hitting another door right about… now. She ran her badge over the door control and again heard the welcome beep and got the literal green light to proceed. She opened this door more slowly, since this next cross hallway appeared on the route of one of the security guards. When the door slid open far enough, she stuck her head out and took a peek. Darkness, on both sides.

Okay, she couldn’t see, but she had other senses. She listened closely, ready to duck back in if she heard any tell-tale footsteps. Nothing. All was quiet in the eastern hallway.

She slipped through the door, careful to close it quietly behind her. According to the blueprints, she now stood in one of the main storage areas at the back of the building. There should be a number of store rooms on either side of the hallway. If she counted three doors on her left, she’d be in the room closest to the east wing’s atrium. Once she entered the atrium, she’d have to cross the wide open space to get to the artifact’s room, the one with the guard posted outside it. And wouldn’t he be surprised to see her? The hysterical laughter began to sneak back in through the cracks in her mind.

Pull it together, Miranda.

Walking as quietly yet as rapidly as she could, she hugged the wall and counted doors. One door. A million steps. Two doors. A million more steps. A creak and a shaft of light. Someone had just opened the door at the end of the hall.

Miranda froze, somewhere between Door #2 and the magic Door #3. What should she do? Go back? Go forward? She needed more time.

The security guard ambled down the hallway, boots clomping on the tile, a flashlight dangling from his right hand.

The flashlight. That might work.

Miranda focused on the power running through the flashlight, from the battery through the filaments and out the bulb. If she could overload the circuit… Knowing her, she’d probably blow the thing up in the guy’s hand. She raised a trembling hand and sent a quick burst, as small and controlled as she could, into the flashlight. The light flared and then faded into nothing.

Thank god, it had worked.

The clomp of the guard’s footsteps faded as he slowed to inspect the flashlight. Miranda crept forward, hoping the sounds of the guard smacking the flashlight against his palm would mask her footsteps. Her left hand dragged against the smooth, never-ending drywall, searching for the elusive doorway. The guard stood muttering and slapping the flashlight less than 50 feet in front of her now.

Her fingers slipped across the doorframe. Door #3, thank god. But if she flashed her badge to get in, the heretofore reassuring beep and green light would give her away in an instant. She couldn’t bear to use her power as a weapon again, but how else would she get past the guard? Besides, if she attacked him as Miranda, she might accidentally kill him. And if she attacked him as Arc Angel, she might deliberately kill him. Not great options.

The guard stopped muttering and turned back the way he’d come, talking into the walkie talkie he wore on his shoulder.

“My flashlight died on me. I’m heading back to the office to grab some fresh batteries.”

“Roger that,” a voice crackled through the small speaker.

The guard used his own security badge to renter the door he’d come through moments before.

The door shut behind him with a slap.

Miranda knew she needed to get moving, in case he changed his mind and came back, but she couldn’t seem to do anything but breathe, and even that was a challenge. What would she have done if he hadn’t left? What was she going to do about the fourth guard stationed at the entrance of the artifact’s room? She might be doing this to save Bryce’s life, but that didn’t mean she felt okay about taking someone else’s in the process.

Part of her mind revved back up, and her hand raised the ID badge and ran it over the door’s reader. Beep. Green light. She pulled open the door and stepped inside.

Unlike the hallways, the storage rooms didn’t even have security lighting. Miranda raised one hand and let the power flow over it. Blue spikes of energy wound around and around her fingers, the glow easily illuminating the room. At least she could be her own flashlight. In fact, she may finally have found the one way to use her power without the risk of hurting anyone.

Her legs were the consistency of well-cooked noodles after the close call with the guard, but she forced herself to stumble forward. The room measured about 100 feet square, but it seemed like it took hours for Miranda to cross it. After avoiding numerous boxes, she arrived at the door on the other side. This was the end of the journey for Miranda James. Once she crossed through this door, it was all up to Arc Angel. Miranda shivered again, then opened the door.

***

Arc Angel was fast, but more importantly, she was smart. The minute she opened the door to the atrium she sent a blast into the security lighting in the area, extinguishing it. Sure, that put the guard on immediate alert, but it also ensured that he wouldn’t see her when she sent a short blast into him an instant later. Miranda was pleased to note that he’d slumped to the ground with a muffled thud before he’d had the chance to notify anyone on his walkie talkie. However, she was a little nervous that, due to the darkness, she couldn’t see whether the man was still breathing.

THAT WENT WELL.

Don’t forget: the guards check in at set times.

She held up her wrist and read the dial from the illumination of the electricity flowing over her hands. She had 15 minutes until the next scheduled call.

THIS WILL BE EASY.

She loped across the empty atrium to the room housing the artifact. When she reached the entryway, she paused to turn the atrium lights back on. Sure, if anyone happened to wander into the room, she’d be clearly visible, but what were the chances that a random passerby would happen by? And if she didn’t turn the lights back on, someone would definitely come wandering in to investigate the power outage that was bound to appear on their monitors.

Next, she began to locate the laser system framing the room. The power that generated the system was similar to the rest of the electricity in the building, but the lasers themselves had a different feel, somehow warmer and stronger than regular light. It was this intensity that stood out to her. While the lasers weren’t visible to the naked eye, once she’d detected their special wave, it was as if she could see the red streaks of light.

If she simply shut down the system, the guards would instantly be alerted. Though it would look like some type of malfunction, it would still be enough of a red flag to draw attention exactly where she didn’t want it to be. So she needed to manipulate the individual strands of light without breaking them.

THIS WILL BE FUN.

She needed to bend the beams out of the way so she could walk safely to the display case in the center of the room. She looked around the room. It looked like there were four boxes on the walls, all between her and the case, each producing three lasers. She needed to adjust the path the lasers took as they left the boxes.

She started work on the box closest to her on the left. She located the exact point where the first beam began and slowly started to shift it. Up, up, up. She could “see” the beam moving off the floor and up the wall until it glowed parallel to the floor, 15 feet up.

Arc Angel made quick work of the other two lasers in that box and moved on to the first box on the right. Soon she had cleared the first 10 feet of the room.

She glanced at her watch again. It had taken her six minutes to locate and manipulate the first two sets of lasers. She needed to pick up the pace.

For the remaining two boxes, she grabbed all three beams at once and pulled them up like strings of taffy.

She could sense all of the lasers shining happily above her head.

THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL.

She strode confidently to the display case, ready for the next challenge.

According to the security plans, the artifact’s case had been locked, electronically and physically. It took only seconds for her to locate the system keeping the lock closed. Two well-placed bursts of energy, one to the electronic system itself, the other melting the metal until it became thin and brittle enough to snap, and she was past the lock. She flipped open the case lid and stared down at the artifact.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE.

What? What does that mean?
Miranda thought.

Now that the case lay open, she could hear its song, calling to her. Arc Angel wanted to pick up the artifact, to cradle it in her arms. She reached her hands down, ready to wrap them around the stone, anxious to feel the roughness against her palms.

Stop!
Miranda hollered.
Don’t touch it! The pressure system, remember?

Her hands froze inches from the artifact and slowly withdrew.

Once we override the last system, you can pick it up. Though I don’t know why you’d want to. That thing gives me the creeps.

Though Miranda shivered, her body stayed as smooth and cold as polished marble. The complete disconnect shook her.

Arc Angel made short work of the pressurized system, overriding it and locking the current pressure into place electronically, breaking the system’s connection to the physical reality.

Miranda knew just what that felt like.

Arc Angel had been in control for long enough, and had used her powers intensely enough, that Miranda was starting to feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. She struggled to keep herself present, knowing she’d need every bit of strength she had to wrest control away from Arc Angel this time. If she even could.

NOW.

She reached down and lifted the stone from its plush display setting and held it out in front of her.

IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL.

It is so freaky.

HE CANNOT HAVE IT.

Look, I don’t want him to have it either, but he’s got Bryce, remember? We don’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

BRYCE IS INCONSEQUENTIAL.

The hell he is!

BRYCE IS INCONSEQUENTIAL. THAT MAN CANNOT HAVE THE AMARTIC STONE. HE IS NOT ALLOWED TO CHANNEL ITS POWER. IT IS MINE.

Can we talk about this on the way? I don’t think we have much time.

She looked down at her watch. She had two minutes until the next scheduled check-in, when the other guards would realize something was amiss in the east atrium.

AGREED.

She grabbed the white cloth the stone had rested on and wrapped it around the artifact. Cradling the wrapped object in her arms, she ran back to the storage room door she’d entered from and slipped back through. Without hesitation, she retraced all of her steps, pausing only to listen for the guards at each intersection. There were no close calls this time, and she soon reached the end of the long hallway she’d started from. All she needed to do was open the service door, cross the alley and hand over the artifact and this would all be over.

HE CANNOT HAVE THE STONE.

If I don’t give it to him, he’ll kill Bryce. And I’m not about to let that happen.

BRYCE IS INCONSE—

I know what you think, and I disagree. Which means I need to be the one steering this ship again.

Focusing her effort like she never had before, Miranda tried to push her way back to the forefront, to push Arc Angel back down deep inside.

Nothing happened.

Miranda tried again, mentally straining until she gasped in pain. After an excruciating minute, she felt her alter-ego give and start to fade. She pressed her advantage and redoubled her efforts. Finally, Arc Angel sank back, and Miranda’s consciousness rushed to the forefront again.

As always, the ordeal knocked Miranda on her ass. She knew she didn’t have time for a complete meltdown, but she slumped momentarily against the wall, trying to catch her breath physically and mentally.

She had almost lost. She had almost been lost. If she’d been one iota weaker, she wouldn’t have been able to push Arc Angel back. And that meant that the next time… the next time she wouldn’t be able to recover. Miranda would be gone for good.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she slid down the wall until her butt hit the cold tile floor. She looked down at the stone she still clutched. What the hell was this thing anyway? Arc Angel had recognized it, had called it something… the Amartic Stone. Said it was hers. How could she have known anything about it? It had never appeared in her series. Hell, nothing even kinda like it had appeared in her series, or in any of Bryce’s comics. So how could Arc Angel know anything about it?

Even now when Miranda looked at it, a strange and ancient power shimmered off of it, chilling her to the bone. She wanted to get rid of the creepy thing. Now.

And yet…

Sure, when she’d been talking to Arc Angel, she’d made it sound like she planned to hand the thing over without a qualm, but she was definitely not qualm-free. She didn’t want to give the creeptastic Mr. Brown the time of day, much less an ancient artifact that almost certainly had some type of mystical powers. Whatever its intended use, Miranda didn’t want Mr. Brown to be the one using it.