Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (109 page)

Oh, Russ, no…

The death ray’s beam reflecting off his body created a light so brilliant I could barely make out the expression on his face. I don’t know how long he hung there as a human barricade keeping the beam from going any farther. Even as painful as it was to watch, I couldn’t keep my eyes away. Seeing someone you love suffering is the cruelest thing there is. I would have traded places with him like it was nothing, had him safe in another room, while I absorbed all of the Associates’ evil, even if it ended my life. But I didn’t have that choice.

Everyone in the room was fleeing away from this spectacle, except for three people running toward it. Mallory, Jameson, and David Hofstetter. David took the lead, holding his arm out to indicate the others should stay back. When they got closer, Mallory gestured to the Associate Jameson had hogtied and cried out, “That one is getting loose.” Sure enough, he’d managed to unravel the curtain tieback and was struggling to his feet. David pointed and let loose an electrical charge, small compared to what Russ could do, but enough to subdue the man.

Mr. Specter wrestled with the nozzle trying to direct it away from Russ, but the energy was drawn to Russ now like a flame to fuel. Russ twitched from side to side and I flinched. I’d once been burned with battery acid and thought that was the worst pain a person could ever experience, but this had to be ten times worse. How much more could he take?

David walked right up to Mr. Specter and blasted a lightning bolt at his feet to make a point. “Turn it off right now,” he shouted, “or I swear I’ll fry you alive.”

Mr. Specter didn’t even turn his head to look; he was still struggling with the nozzle.

I made myself known in front of him—faster than I’d ever materialized before. There was no way he couldn’t see me. Judging from David, Mallory, and Jameson’s expressions, each of them could see me too. I screamed in my head.
You have to shut it down. You’re killing him.

Mr. Specter yelled, “I can’t turn it off. It won’t let me.” I wasn’t sure if he was responding to me or David, but I heard the desperation in his voice and knew he told the truth. The machine was out of control. There was no stopping it now or ever. I willed my astral projected self to rise up closer to Russ. Even with the bright light I could make out the grimace on his face. It was the look of someone in agony. I didn’t want to say good-bye.

I’m here with you, Russ. I love you.
I didn’t think he heard me so I tried again, keeping in mind that this might be the last opportunity I’d have to tell him how I felt.
I want to thank you. You’ve changed me in every way. Your love has made me stronger.

I felt a flicker of something in return. An unspoken message, the way lovers smile at each other across a room.

At that moment, the glare intensified, getting brighter and brighter.

And then, the tide turned.

The room reverberated with a high pitched thrumming sound. The glow coming off of Russ’s body spiked, until it was like looking at the sun. And then, a deafening blast filled the room as the ray bounced off Russ and reversed straight toward Mr. Specter and the death ray machine. The impact caused an explosion that shattered the chandeliers. Thick black vapor poured from the spot where Mr. Specter had stood only a moment ago.

Only seconds before the hall had been filled with the sounds of voices crying out, and people running to get to the exits. Now it was as still as death itself.

Russ

Spasms of pain wracked my body as the beam held me trapped high above the floor. Worse yet was the psychological torture. The death ray was more than just energy; it was a collection of every negative emotion ever felt by anyone anywhere. I experienced the pain of prisoners of war, the agony of abused children, the loss of a thousand loved ones’ deaths. All of the world’s collective sorrows. Mired in it, it was hard to imagine why anyone would want to live at all. Life was all so dire and pointless. Nothing good could ever come from being a human being. We were born, we suffered, and then we died.

The word excruciating was invented to describe the physical and emotional pain I felt when suspended by the death ray. Nothing made sense anymore. What was the point of all this again? I didn’t have a clue.

It seemed to go on and on. I could have been up there for minutes or hours. I wondered why I thought it was a good idea to leap up and stop the beam. It started as a selfless gesture. I wanted to keep the death ray from harming anyone else, but as I felt it filling every cell in my body, I knew this wasn’t a real solution. There would be a saturation point and when that happened, I wouldn’t be able to hold it back anymore. Then all of my suffering would be for nothing. It felt like a million burning fishhooks were poking and twisting every inch of my body. I writhed in pain and prayed for it to end. If it was a death ray, why wasn’t I dead already?

When I felt Nadia’s presence, it was a comfort. I was glad she would go on living long after I was gone. So much of her life had been terrible; she deserved better things to come. But even hearing her say she loved me didn’t lessen the anguish. The torment was endless and infinite. I blinked back tears. If I gave in to it, that was the end. I wanted it to be over, but I didn’t want my life to end this way.

To offset the pain, I concentrated on Nadia. Her voice rang in my head, the words crystal clear.
Your love has made me stronger.
Nadia had survived so much in her life—the excruciating pain of getting burned by battery acid, the horror of having a scarred face, the isolation of her home life. Whatever happened, she just handled it. I wasn’t sure my love had made her stronger. She’d been strong to begin with. If anything, it seemed to me that she’d made me a better person. Or maybe we just brought out the best in each other.

Without even thinking about it, I drew up my strength, and made my body into a shield. A shield that deflected the death ray, sending it back to the machine and its creator.

The explosion was ear-splitting and so violent it made the building shake, but there was no ball of fire, like when a bomb goes off. The chandeliers burst and I heard the clatter of glass slivers as they fell to the floor. The death ray machine exploded and became a dark cloud that covered everything and then dissipated, leaving only wreckage. Without the beam to hold me up I dropped fast. My stomach lurched the same way it did riding a roller coaster. I knew if I landed the wrong way, that would be it for me. I’d braced for a crash landing knowing I would hit hard, so it was a shock to feel myself being caught and lowered gently to the floor. I bent my knees and tried to catch my breath. I was shaky, but alive.

The emergency lights came on almost instantaneously and through the eye-sting of smoke, I saw confusion. A billow of dust blanketed the room. Everyone who’d been standing behind the machine had been struck down. The fabric draping the ceiling was sooty and tattered, and tables and chairs had been knocked over or propelled across the room. Once the dust cleared I saw that the few remaining guests clustered close to the exits, looked shell shocked. Off to one side, a woman whined like a dog in distress.

Behind where the death ray had been, bodies littered the floor. A Secret Service agent lay completely still on the floor behind where the machine had been, his leg bent at an awkward angle. Behind him, Mr. Specter was sprawled on the floor face down with a blanket of soot covering his white jacket and blood pooling around his head. Judging from the amount of blood loss, he had to be dead. He’d started all this, and I’d only been defending everyone else here, but there was still a part of me that wanted to walk away guilt-free. Playing games where opponents died didn’t really affect me. In real life, though, it’s a horror that can’t be described. I knew I would never get these images out of my head. They would haunt me for the rest of my days.

Jameson rushed up to me. “We need to stop them,” he said, his voice high-pitched and frantic.

“Stop who?” I looked down to see that Mallory was now kneeling next to David Hofstetter, pressing a cloth napkin to the front of his bloody shirt. “Are you okay?” I asked, and David grunted something positive in response.

“I’ve got him,” Mallory said, concentrating on putting pressure on the wound. “You guys just do what you need to do.”

Jameson snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Russ. We need to catch Mrs. Whitehouse and that other guy. The fake son.”

“Where’s Nadia?” I asked, wheeling around.

Jameson grabbed my arm. “You can find Nadia later. We need to go now.” Conflicted, I followed him. I wanted an inventory of all the people I cared about—Nadia, Carly, Layla and her parents, Dr. Anton and Rosie. I wanted to know where they were and that they were safe and unharmed. But we were running now, past the stunned guests, who were helping each other to their feet and attending to minor wounds. We left the ballroom, and Jameson glanced back at me. “I’m not sure which way they went, but it’s a safe bet they left the building. The two of them ran out while you were up in the air doing your dramatic, save-the-world scene.”

Trust Jameson to come up with a comment like that. “I could have died, you know,” I said.

“Yes, but you didn’t, did you?” He gestured to an exit sign. “I think taking the stairs is a safe bet.” He tried the knob, but the door was locked. I motioned for him to step aside, and gave it a blast, blowing it open.

“At least one of us has skills,” I said as we went through. We charged down the stairs, down and around from floor to floor, grabbing the railing at each turn.

“Yeah, well you would have fallen on your ass a few minutes ago if not for me.”

“That was you?” I thought of my drop from the ceiling and the sensation that a giant pair of arms had caught me on the way down. It didn’t feel like Jameson, but I didn’t have any other explanation so he had to be speaking the truth. I owed my life to Jameson. What a revelation.

“All me,” he said. “So if you’re talking about skills, give me some credit.”

“Thanks, Jameson.”

“You’re welcome, pal.”

We got to the first floor and burst out of the stairwell. Jameson said, “They’d have to drive out of here. I say we try the back parking lot where the employees park.”

“We need to check the front where the valet is,” I said. “They’d be in front. Definitely in front.”

“Don’t you think that would be too obvious?” Jameson said.

“That’s why they’d do it,” I said, leading the way. There wasn’t time to get into it, but my hunch was based on more than that. You’d have to be completely arrogant to show up at the Presidential Black Tie Bash in disguise wheeling in a weapon of annihilation and think you could get away with it. And that’s exactly the kind of person who would come and go using the front door with the rest of the guests.

We made our way across the lobby and through the doors that led outside. The front circular walk was crowded with guests waiting for their cars. I overheard one woman say, “I’m surprised the police aren’t here taking statements.” As we pushed through the crowd, conversations buzzed around us. Judging from what I overheard, everyone here had gotten out before the explosion. They were all clear that
something
had happened, they just couldn’t get a handle on what it was. Was it a light show gone wrong, a terrorist attack, an electrical malfunction? When we reached the valet, I asked, “Did you see a short old man with a beard? He was with a young guy, his son?”

Jameson stepped next to me and joined in. “The son is like his size,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder, “but super muscular. Like, even the guy’s neck is big.”

The valet, a young guy with a blond buzz cut shrugged. “Yeah, I saw ‘em. They drove up in a Bentley.” He raised his eyebrows. “Nice ride.”

“Can you tell us where the car is parked?” Jameson asked.

“It’s not parked anywhere; it’s right there.” Turning around, we followed his outstretched arm and saw a silver Bentley speed past and accelerate down the drive toward the road. “Their chauffeur just picked them up.”

Without a word, Jameson and I took off running after the car. Two people rode in the backseat, but it was impossible to see much more than that. The u-shaped drive had a median filled with flowering bushes surrounded by decorative stone. Jameson tried to stop the car by telekinetically winging some of the stones at it while I made a feeble attempt to shoot electricity at the rear wheels, but the fact of the matter was that we were too far out of range.

As we settled back on the curb in defeat, both of us panting breathlessly, Jameson picked at a piece of grass and said, “So close. Man, that was frustrating.”

“At least we tried.”

He said, “Why didn’t you catapult yourself at them?”

“I couldn’t do it. Tapped out.” I leaned back and stretched my legs. Off in the distance I heard the wail of an ambulance. “Maybe we’ll get another chance.”

“Yeah I’m sure you’ll be seeing Mrs. Whitehouse in the lunch line when you go back to school,” Jameson said. “You can take her down while she’s spooning out macaroni and cheese.”

“The lunch program doesn’t serve macaroni and cheese,” I said, but I got his point. Chances were good we wouldn’t be seeing Mrs. Whitehouse ever again.

Nadia

The death ray aimed at Russ’s chest reversed direction and a second later the machine exploded. I left Russ’s side to give Jameson a frantic message.
Catch him!
I said. There was only a fraction of a second, but I have to give Jameson credit—he totally came through, cushioning Russ’s fall right before he would have hit the floor.

Russ looked dazed, but okay. Jameson and Mallory got through it too, but David Hofstetter must have been standing too close to the machine, because he’d gotten hit and knocked to the floor. Mallory grabbed a napkin off the floor and knelt down to apply pressure to the wound. As much as I wanted to stick around, I had to see where Mrs. Whitehouse went.