Dystopia: YA Paranormal Adventure Romance (20 page)

"Nice move," she says with an evil smirk. "But you can't avoid me forever."

I draw the Athame and hold it out in an attempt to ward her off. The small dagger shakes in my outstretched hand. Katalina snaps out a sharp kick to my wrist and sends the knife flying from my grasp.

"Your Witch tools don't scare me. Your luck just ran out, Sasha."

As she leans over me, I notice a movement of dust particles in the air. Has Zara managed to disable the infra-red rays? My question is answered when the wooden door flies open and Zara bursts through, landing a kick high on Katalina's back. She falls forward onto the stone floor where the infra-red rays had previously spanned the corridor. Zara smoothes down her suit jacket and adjusts her designer glasses, regaining her usual composed image. She picks up the Athame and tosses it to me.

"You're good to go. Ke
ep heading along the corridor and find your dad. I'll catch up after I deal with this one."

Katalina
begins to pick herself up, snarling, as Zara readies herself in a fight stance. I want to stay even though I know I'll be powerless to help.

"Go!" shouts Zara.

Her single word is like a shot going off from a race starter's pistol. My body reacts instantly and I begin to run along the dark corridor. If there's one thing I know about Zara, it's that she can look after herself.

Chapter 24

Thursday 19 September 11:18pm

Zara Gordon

I stare into its eyes. I refuse to consider it human, because it's not. It might look like a human, even move and act like one, but this thing is otherworldly. I've studied these creatures during my time at The Agency but never seen one in the flesh. They're known as Metamorphs because of their ability to assume a human appearance. This particular freak seems to be vampiric in origin.

We circle one another in the dark, cold corridor like two boxers sizing each other up. The thing that calls itself
Katalina has its claws raised and teeth bared. It looks completely different from the human facade it portrayed at the hospital, when it had fooled all of us. Hart's Empath senses didn't feel anything and no visions warned me. Just as I knew nothing of Sasha, I had no awareness that this thing had assumed a role in Agent Hunter's life. Menzies Blake had planted it on Hunter like a deadly leech.

Why had I never envisioned this? No time for analysis now, post-assessment will come later, if there is a later. I'm not exactly trained to deal with this scenario. I've never confronted a physical supernatural entity and I'm not sure how well a blue belt in Taekwondo will fare against a
Metamorph.

"You can't help her," hisses the creature in its harsh accent. "
Menzies Blake has told me all about you. He is fond of you and thinks highly of your abilities. Hunter and his girl are lost causes, and Aaron Hart is too wild to conform. But we could use you. It would be a shame to have to destroy a Precog, your skills are so rare. Join us, Zara."

I fake an expression of consideration for this sick offer, stalling for time. I had underestimated Blake. Only now am I able to understand the scale of his grand plan. He had masqueraded as head of The Agency and used his power to create a sub team of deadly creatures. Agent Hunter had come close to unravelling his plan when he pursued the Hangman Ghost, but Blake had used this female beast to keep tabs on him all along.

"You can't win this," I say to the creature. "I've seen how it ends."

As long as I can continue to distract
Katalina and keep myself alive, Sasha will have more time to find Agent Hunter. 

"Liar!" she hisses. "And now you'll die."

It launches at me with a sweeping overhand right, her fingers arched like an eagle's talons. I block her swipe with my forearm; the blow stings but I barely notice it. She grits her teeth and releases a frustrated groan, more animal-like than human. As she shifts forward I duck to my right and slip past her, my guard up and ready for her next attack.

The creature loses its smirk; maybe it realises it has a fight on its hands. It comes at me again, surprising me with its speed and dexterity, reminding me that it's more than human. Seizing my shoulders,
the razor-like claws that replaced her human fingertips pierce my flesh. I clench my back teeth together and force the pain from my thoughts. Its claws dig into my skin and it pulls me down toward her bent knee. Her mistake is to fight like a human.

I'm able to counter by thrusting my arms upward to break her grasp, then landing a short elbow clean on its jaw. It was not
expecting that; she stumbles backward, but does not fall. Her forehead tightens into a scowl of concentration. I close the distance and launch a spinning back-kick. Before my foot hits the target I feel claws shred through my suit jacket and tear at the skin on my back. The adrenaline masks the pain coursing through my body. I fall down and feel wet blood at the base of my spine. She smiles, enjoying my moment of agony.

She comes at me again, fast and fluid in movement, pinning me against the stone floor before I can react. The claws pierce my upper arms and this time I feel the pain shoot through my body. I do my best not to let the hurt show on my face; I won't give it the satisfaction. I feel
its hot, putrid breath on my neck as I strain to break free.

It's useless; I'm trapped in her clawed grip, like a mouse in the talons of a bird of prey. My short burst of energy has drained me; the build up of lactic acid stings my
muscles, yet the creature is barely out of breath. I know I can't win this fight, but I don't have to accept it. Despite the horror of my situation, I refuse to close my eyes. As my final act of defiance I will stare it down.

"Last chance," says the creature. "Join us, or die."

I'm overcome with a wave of dizziness. The premonition that follows may be my last.

I'm kicking and screaming like a gazelle in the jaws of a lion. The creature smiles,
then pulls its head back before launching it forward and sinking its incisors into my neck. The sharp teeth pierce my jugular vein with the precision of a surgeon. I see my own life ebb away as the vision ends.

"I'll join you," I say quickly. "I'm ready."

I do my best to say this with utter conviction. The creature releases its grip and a searing pain shoots through my body as its claws are extracted. If nothing else, at least I've bought Sasha more time. The Metamorph pins me to the floor with her knees, looming above me with a menacing scowl.

"You'll understand if I don't take your word for it. I'll need a show of commitment."

She reaches into an inner pocket and presents me with a corked test tube filled with dark, red liquid.

"This is an old ritual. You should be honoured to be chosen. Drink it, and join me."

I'm suddenly faced with a prospect worse than death. My choices are reduced to one. The Metamorph wants me to drink from this vial of blood and I dare not think about the consequences of doing so. My trembling fingers take the test tube from the outstretched clawed hand. Our hands brush and I'm struck by its icy cold flesh. All my research on Metamorphs is borne out; its exterior is as human as the average person, yet under its skin rages a deadly assassin.

The creature removes the cork and smiles, revealing its razor sharp teeth. As I tilt the tube
torward my mouth, the warm red liquid starts to roll down the glass like deadly lava. My eyes are fixed on the Metamorph which calls itself Kat. Her hungry eyes widen in anticipation as I open my mouth.

"Go to hell!"

I scream the words like my own salvation depends on their clarity. With all the energy I can muster, I hammer-fist the test tube into the creature's face. An explosion of glass and blood is followed by a guttural howl as the demon-woman recoils, blinded in one eye by a long shard of glass. Her claws retract and the sharpened points of its teeth recede. It's morphing, and losing its otherworldly power. In its moment of extreme pain it transforms back into its human form, her body contorting in agony. Staggering, it bounces off the walls of the corridor and palms its way out of the exit.

I lie still for a moment. My eyes are closed and I'm trying not to focus on the pain in my arms and back, or the blood on my clothes. My job is not done. I can't let that thing escape into the night, or recover only to return for revenge.

Hauling myself to my feet, I wipe the specks of blood from my glasses. I feel like a car crash victim; the euphoria of still being alive didn't last long. Wincing, I pull a clawed fingernail out of my left shoulder. The Metamorph had me all but beaten; now it's hurt and on the run. I cast a glance over my shoulder and along the dark corridor, hoping Sasha can find the power within her to defeat Blake and Jack Ketch. Only a White Witch could face up to the combined might of a Necromancer and a Poltergeist; I just wish Sasha had been given more time to develop her skills.

I start to feel a wave of dizziness, followed by a
premonition of how it all ends. . .

Chapter 2
5

Thursday 19 September 11:42pm

Sasha Hunter

I'm truly alone. I follow a signpost which points the way to the dungeon; the place in Zara's vision. The route takes me through a gallery with coats of armour, walls of weaponry and horse mannequins. They would have frightened me a week ago, but not anymore. Breathless, I race down a spiralling stone staircase. Every minute that passes is another minute closer to the deadline: at midnight Jack Ketch has the right to take Dad's life.

I arrive at a closed door marked "Torture Chamber"; it can only be a place where horrific things happen. Feeling like my lungs are about to burst, I take a moment to compose myself. The last thing I need is an asthma attack: I'm no good to anyone if I'm not breathing. I steady my breaths and reach for the door
handle, but it twists all on its own. When the door opens, it's no ghostly apparition. The massive frame of Ludvig blocks my path.

Ludvig
steps into the corridor and closes the door behind him, removing his sunglasses to reveal his soulless, icy blue eyes. With his dark suit, huge chest and shaved head, he couldn't be any more physically intimidating. But he's more than that; he's a Pyromorph, and he can generate fire from his hands. I never expected this to be easy; I hadn't prepared myself to have to break through layers of supernatural barriers. Having only just escaped the wrath of Katalina, now I've got Ludvig to deal with. He steps forward slowly, and something about the way he moves unnerves me.

"Any chance we could talk about this?" I quip.

The giant mute looks me up and down, like a predator sizing up his prey. He raises his huge hands, palms open. I become mesmerised as they heat up like branding irons. One touch would melt my skin. I can't imagine a bigger mismatch than a small, sixteen year old girl versus this fire-breathing giant.

Zara's words flood into my mind: "Everything has a weak point." I look around desperately for a weapon. The only thing close by is a fire extinguisher. And then I remember the car chase in the forest and Aaron telling me that
Pyromorphs are vulnerable to water. I'm not even sure extinguishers use water. It seems like a ridiculous idea, but right now it's all I've got.

I yank the canister off the wall and point the nozzle up
torward Ludvig's head. Unflinching, he closes the distance between us, his glowing palms outstretched. Squeezing the handle as hard as I can, I aim the powerful jet of foam straight into Ludvig's face. I'm all too aware that it might be my last pathetic act. At least if it doesn't work, it might disorientate him. But it does more than that, way more.

Ludvig
recoils like he's been hit with acid. Staggering backward, he claws at the skin on his face, which has begun to bubble and redden as though scalded by acid. For the first time, he makes a sound: a mumbled moan. I keep the spray of foam trained on him and watch as his hands turn from a glowing red to a blistered pink, like raw meat. He writhes in pain, shaking his head in an attempt to rid the froth which burns his skin. I grip down on the nozzle of the extinguisher until the jet of foam dies.

Before I can relax,
Ludvig seems to recover. He looks down at his hands as bits of skin falls from his face. The red glow has disappeared from his palms and he shakes with rage. Whatever I've done, it clearly hasn't finished him for good.

He rips open his jacket and reaches inside, pulling out a gun. I
had forgotten about the fact he's armed. If his supernatural powers can't kill me, he'll resort to old fashioned human weapons. Nothing I've experienced has scared me as much as looking down the barrel of Ludvig's gun, then up to his cold, callous eyes. They are filled with fury and revenge and I know that he won't hesitate to execute me on the spot. I don't expect mercy from someone who tried to bury me alive. Before I can react, I sense a presence in my peripheral vision. 

BANG.

The blast of a single deafening gunshot ricochets off the walls, deafening me. Time seems to stand still and the flash of a yellow raincoat colliding with my body alters the fate that I had accepted.

It's Aaron.

And he has just taken a bullet meant for me.

He
lies bent double against the wall, a hand clutching his bloodied left shoulder. It feels like everything is happening in slow motion as Ludvig readjusts his aim and points the gun at Aaron.

"No!" I scream.

But this time there's no deafening shot. The gun falls from Ludvig's grip and bounces on the floor. He looks down at his fingers, stripped of skin and no longer functioning. Flesh melts off his hands like candle wax, and I realise that Ludvig didn't pull the trigger because he can't. He kicks the gun away and approaches Aaron with a sickening snarl on his face, as cold as death.

"Get out of here Sasha," shouts Aaron.

But my legs won't move. I can't leave him after he's been shot. Trance-like, I watch as Aaron kicks upward at Ludvig, landing clean on the side of the Pyromorph's jaw. Bits of charred skin fly from Ludvig's face. To my amazement, Ludvig barely falters; the kick twists his head but his body remains unmoved.

He rotates his head robot-like to face Aaron with a smile,
then spits blood. Ludvig's palms start to glow once more, orange to red, like coals in a fire. To my horror, I realise that the effects of the extinguisher have faded and his powers are returning.

"Uh oh," says Aaron, bracing himself for the retaliation.

For a couple of seconds Ludvig doesn't move; he's enjoying the moment. It's as though he's allowing his hands to heat up so he can inflict maximum damage. The spray of water wasn't enough; I need more, but the extinguisher is empty. I throw the heavy metal cylinder at the back of Ludvig's head, but it's a futile effort; it rebounds harmlessly and drops to the floor.

Ludvig
moves torward Aaron, going in for the kill. I have to do something; I have to. I can't lose Aaron now, not like this, not after he just took a bullet for me. I glance around in desperation and notice the fire alarm on the wall over the fire extinguisher bracket. The pipe work overhead has small nozzles, one of which is directly above Ludvig. A sprinkler system? It's worth a try. I smash the glass and hold my breath. One second passes, then water descends from the nozzles in the ceiling. Ludvig stiffens and arches his back as though hit by acid rain. It causes his body to convulse like the effects of an electric shock. The water continues to fall, soaking us all.

With all the energy he can muster, Aaron launches himself at
Ludvig and sends him flying backward against the wall. The ground vibrates as the hulking bodyguard crashes from wall to floor, whacking his head on the hard stone slabs and knocking himself out cold.

The ringing starts to fade in my ears and I rush to Aaron's side.

"The uglier they come, the harder they fall," he says with a grimace.

I'm worried about his bullet wound and the blood he's losing. Aaron never looked small to me before, but he does now, with his shoulders slumped and his body collapsing on itself like crumpled paper. His dark, olive skin has turned a paler shade than mine.

"It's just a scratch," Aaron lies through gritted teeth. "A very big, painful, bloody scratch."

"I'll go and get help
. . ."

"No," replies Aaron. "I'll be fine. You've got a job to do and you're running out of time."

I'm not ready to leave Aaron injured, alone and in danger.

"What if
Ludvig wakes up?" I ask.

"I don't think he's going anywhere."

I glance behind at Ludvig's grisly body. The water from the sprinklers continues to fall as his skin melts away, exposing bits of skull and bone. I turn away to avert my eyes before the sight makes me vomit. Aaron grips my forearm and I focus back on his face.

"Don't do anything stupid in there," he says.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I reply.

He smiles, but it doesn't make it all the way to his eyes. I'm overwhelmed by emotion. I don't know what to say or do to express how I feel. The water from the sprinklers showers down on
us, yet I barely notice. I hold his gaze, determined to appear strong. Aaron just laughs, because he's an Empath and he knows exactly how I feel. I always thought falling in love was a dangerous thing to do, but maybe that's the attraction. The second my mind decides I want to kiss Aaron, he reacts.

His arm
wraps around me and pulls me into his warm body.  When our lips touch, my mind dizzies with momentary pleasure. For a just a few seconds I'm able to force the thoughts of ghosts, monsters and betrayals from my mind and revel in the strength that pours from Aaron. His kiss energises me and breathes a confidence inside me that I've never known before. He leans back and a smile teases his lips. He lifts his finger to touch his own lips and I know that he is just as affected by our embrace as I am. The kiss is what we both needed, just in case it's the last chance we ever get to do it. 

"I knew I'd win you around," says Aaron. He places a strong arm on my hip and urges me toward the door. "Now go save your dad, Sasha. I believe in you ─ you can do this."

Reluctantly, I turn away from Aaron and face the door to the torture chamber. Zara and Aaron have done everything they possibly can to get me this far; the rest is up to me.