Matt Archer: Redemption (5 page)

“Which way?” I asked them. Three monsters circled the Potomac, but if they didn’t stay in ordnance range, there wasn’t much we could do with them. The other five were down with damaged wings, but tearing apart anyone who came close.

“Pick one and go,” Parker said, running for the nearest Freak.

I nudged Will and pointed at a pair who were harassing the Humvees where Dorland’s grenade team had set up. We took off.

It seemed Jorge and Ramirez had gotten the memo, too, because they broke free of their support teams and went after the nearest monster.

Now it was me and my Freak. It squawked angrily as I approached, using its wing to scoop up a huge pile of dirt and grass. I hit the ground on my belly just before it threw its load, and debris sailed over my head in a massive cloud. Before it could try that again, I charged, using the nearest Humvee as a launch point.

I ignored the stares of disbelief from the soldiers in the vehicle as I leapt onto the Humvee’s hood in one bound. One more jump and I flew at the beast head on.

It opened its beak wide and raised its wings, but Tink gave me an extra boost, sending me over its head. As I soared by, I stabbed it in the eye. It shrieked and scrambled back.

I hit the ground hard and rolled, turning to take a second pass from underneath. While it danced in pain, rubbing its head on the grass, I scurried under its legs and finished it. Getting out from underneath before it dropped was dicey, but I crawled free just in time.

Done with mine, I turned to see if anyone needed help. Ordnance had gone quiet, so I assumed we had it under control, but better to check.

Will was riding his monster as it tried to take off with only one wing. The other had been cut off. He let out a war whoop and slammed his blade into its skull. One more down.

Ramirez was still busy, but Jorge was getting to his feet next to a dead Freak. That was three.

And Parker was …

My pulse stuttered. Parker’s Freak was dead, but he wasn’t there.

“Parker?” I called, hoping he was with the other soldiers, directing an attack on the monsters still in the air. “Captain Parker!”

Jorge’s head snapped up and he scanned the sky, then pointed. Bile scalded my throat as I stared that direction.

Parker was caught in the talons of the largest Freak. The other two flying with it were barely staying airborne; their wing membranes were in shreds. But the big one was nearly intact.

And it had our wielder.

“No!” He was sixty, seventy feet in the air. If we shot at the monsters, they’d drop him. What should I do? What
could
I do?

Wait, there was one thing. Something I’d never asked before, but might work. “Tink, I need your help!”

If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, I can only do this every so often
and
you’ll be too late,
she murmured.
Do you want to waste this chance?

“When we were in Amsterdam, you said if I ever wanted to fly, just to ask. Well, I’m asking! No fair if you helped that witch fly and won’t help me now!”

So be it.

A whining filled my ears and my skin started to itch all over. My limbs shook as I fought to control the pain and stay focused. Then my feet rose from the ground. Holy crap, I was
flying!
This was amazing—and extremely weird. But I was flying!

“What the hell?” Will said, backing away. “You’re floating!”

I’d have to explain later. For now, I needed to get our man back.

Flying wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I pointed my body in the direction I wanted it to go, and willed myself to move. And I did, closing in on the pack of Freaks like a rocket.

It was almost too easy to stab the wounded monsters. They were hurt and couldn’t bank or change altitude fast enough. I was quick, praying the big one didn’t drop Parker before I got there.

Once they were out of the way, I hovered over to the last Freak. Parker squirmed in its talons, turning his head so he could see me.

His face was white as plaster. “Help.”

God, he sounded so weak. The monster must be slowly squeezing the life out of him. I shot over the Freak, trying to get its attention, not sure what I’d even do. If I killed it without being in exactly the right place, Parker would drop. If I missed and didn’t kill it right off, it might crush my wielder.

I had to force it to fly lower. Then if it dropped Parker, he might survive the fall.

I circled back and dove straight at its head. It swooped beneath me and I swerved to cut a jagged line through its wing.

“Just like Afghanistan, sir,” I said, hoping he could hear me. “We know how to deal with winged monsters. We got this.”

No answer. The monster turned and flew at me. I went low and swiped at the other wing. Finally, it faltered, gliding toward the ground and the rest of the team. It was going to drag its load before crash landing right on top of him and half the men below.

I zoomed underneath it and slashed at its talons. With a startled cry, it released Parker and wheeled away. I caught him as the Freak crash landed in the Potomac. The tanks immediately opened fire, blowing it to pieces.

What a hand-held rocket launcher couldn’t do, heavy artillery could. If only we’d had this kind of support in Africa and Australia. But by then, Congress was already suspicious and moving a tank to a foreign country without a U.S. military installation nearby would’ve been the last nail. Too bad we had to get their attention by destroying half the capital and suffering civilian casualties.

I carried Parker down and set him on the grass near the closest Humvee. Ramirez dashed over and fell to his knees next to me.

Parker’s eyes fluttered open. “Get them all?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That was the last one.”

His smile was faint. “Good, then I’m done. The last flight.”

“Hey, none of that, okay?” Ramirez said. “Help’s on the way.”

“Not this time,” Parker whispered. He lifted a hand from his abdomen, revealing a bloodied Class A shirt. “My job’s finished. This was it for me.”

 “You aren’t finished,” I said, desperate to keep him talking until the paramedics came, but knowing they wouldn’t arrive in time. “Hang on.”

He took a breath and wheezed. “Dark’s coming. Stay strong. And don’t let … your brother give you … any more … shiners.”

I managed a laugh despite the film of tears covering my eyes. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember.”

Parker’s back arched and his eyes rolled back in his head. Blood saturated the ground beneath him. He jerked twice, then went limp.

Ramirez reached out to take his pulse. His shoulders slumped. “Gone.”

He leapt to his feet, stalked a few feet away, then screamed curses at the sky. Ramirez, the POW survivor, the stoic one, the guy with the steadiest head, came completely unglued in front of fifty men and three other wielders. But he’d been closer to Parker than the rest of us. For a horrible second, I imagined Parker was Will. I would’ve done more than scream at the sky. I would’ve raged against the universe as a whole.

Now, though, I felt empty. All this death, and for what? We’d lost another wielder but we were no closer to ending this war, and now we had the blood of hundreds of civilians on our hands, too. People who simply had the misfortune of being here when disaster struck.

“Where’s Parker’s knife?” I asked.

Will put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go search for it. You stay with Parker.”

Jorge squatted next to me. The rest of the soldiers moved around us, picking up the pieces and clearing the battlefield. He sighed long and deep. “He was a good man.”

“Yeah. Probably the nicest one of us. Always polite, which is pretty rare in this outfit,” I said. “His mother is a manners coach at a school for rich girls.”

Jorge’s smile was quick. “He told me.”

“So what now?” I asked. “Do we have to search for a new wielder?”

“The knives seem to find the wielders for us.” Jorge glanced downrange.

True, and one problem I wouldn’t have to solve. “My girlfriend is out here somewhere. And Will’s.”

“I’m sure they’re safe, but I’ll ask one of the men to call your support team and have them locate the girls for you.” Jorge pointed downrange. “William found the missing blade.”

I looked up in time to see him stoop and reach for something. A moment later, he jumped backward, shaking his hand.

“I think he needs your assistance,” Jorge said. “Go. I’ll stay here.”

Too tired to ask why Will would need my help, I weaved my way through the devastation that used to be West Potomac Park. Ramirez beat me there.

“What do you mean, you can’t touch it?” he asked Will.

Will shrugged. “It burned me, sir.”

He held up his hand, and red marks scored his fingers. Nothing serious, but like when you accidentally touched the stove. Ramirez frowned and squatted down to pick up the knife. Its blade was driven into the dirt so that only the handle stuck up.

The major reached for it, but as soon as his fingers touched the handle, he snatched his hand back. “What the hell? It’s red hot.”

Maybe you should get that
, Tink said, sounding both tired and coy. An odd combination, and one that made me suspicious.

“Why?”

Because you can
.

Sighing, I bent and wrapped my fingers around the handle, expecting to be burned, too.

Instead, a quiet male voice said,
Take me to my new wielder, please. You’re the only one who can help.

Then a picture of Uncle Mike’s house flashed through my mind.

Chapter Six

“You okay?” Will asked as Murphy drove the four wielders back to the Rayburn building in one of the few operable Humvees. Ramirez had insisted that his man bring us back, and I understood why. Alone, with only Murphy as witness, we could slowly fall apart like we always did in the wake of a huge fight. Despite his hardass nature and pinched expression, this was a man who would give us the space we needed. Aside from telling me that my support team had gone to search for Ella and Penn, Murphy remained quiet as the four of us slumped in the back seat.

I didn’t answer Will, so full of questions and concern I didn’t know where to start. Mike, a wielder again? Did any of the news cameras catch me flying? I’d been too wound up to even think about what I might’ve done. What was showing on CNN right now?

Then there was the fact that Parker’s knife would only come to me. So far, I was the only wielder who could wield two blades. But was there more to this? Was it because I’d understand the spirit’s request to go to Uncle Mike? Or was the question about my position on this team being answered again?

I settled with the most pressing question. “Murph? Has anyone seen my sister?”

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Thought she was still in the bunker.”

Major Ramirez shook himself out of a stupor. “Me, too. Why would you ask where she is?”

Jorge, who was sitting in the rear-facing seat next to him, cocked his head to one side. His eyes widened. “She left. She left and is out here somewhere, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “I can’t really explain what happened, but she ditched Brent to come outside. I’m scared she’s hurt or lost.”

Ramirez didn’t ask, for which I was grateful, and relayed an order to Murphy. “Call Johnson. Tell him to gather a small team to go after her.”

“He’ll find her if she hasn’t already turned up,” Jorge said. “I’m sure she’s fine, though. She has a knack for surviving.”

He didn’t know the half of it. I couldn’t decide what had me more upset—Parker being dead and his knife basically telling me my uncle was its new wielder, or Mamie turning into some kind of monster-dodging ninja. At least they were sending Johnson to find her. If anyone could, it would be her most devoted disciple.

Weird that I thought of him—and her—that way now. But Johnson had sensed long before anyone else that Mamie had shamanic abilities, and he’d treated her accordingly, with respect and no small amount of awe.

“So, where did those flying monstrosities come from?” Ramirez asked, rubbing his forehead. “We didn’t have an eclipse.”

I had a feeling I knew. This had happened to us in Africa and Australia, too. “Anybody hear about a mass suicide on the news?”

Murphy nodded. “It was on the radio. I heard about it right after we dropped you off for the hearing. Five adults and one little girl. They found them in Fairfax, Virginia this morning.”

“A classic Nocturna Maura calling ritual,” I said. “I think their twisted head witch wanted to prove that being in jail wasn’t enough to stop her from going after us.”

“And what better time for Ann Smythe to do that than when all five wielders were in one highly populated, very public spot?” Will growled. “All those poor civilians dead, and for what?”

“They managed to take one of us out,” Jorge murmured. “But what a large cost to accomplish that.”

I put my head in my hands, unable to deal with it. That’s when I realized something else. “Will, you have a migraine?”

“Yeah, why?”

I didn’t. After a fight, especially one where we used a ton of energy, normally I ached all over and felt like there was a rave going on in my skull. I did ache—but a lot of that was from the fight itself, not the magic.

“I do, too,” Ramirez said, rubbing his temples. “Like I’ve got a massive hangover, which is how it always is.”

“Little twinge here,” Jorge said. “But that’s normal for me.”

Okay, so what was different for me this time? “Tink, what’s happening?”

She sighed.
You took residual power to cope.

She means you took power from me,
Parker’s knife-spirit said.
My wielder was dying; it was inevitable and regrettable. The best I could do was assist you.

It hurt to think I’d used Parker’s spirit while his life bled out. It made me feel like a leech. “Thanks for the help, then.”

You need all your strength to get through the next few hours,
Parker’s spirit said. His voice was as quiet and cultured as his previous wielder’s had been.
I’m glad to assist you. But in return, take me home.