Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (31 page)

“That’s a lie,” I said before I could reconsider.

Surprise replaced anger, and Psystorm smiled. “Revisionist history, I should have known. Your old man ever tell you about the first battle? The one that kicked off the War?”

“Trenton, New Jersey. Six jewelry heists in one hour, three million dollars worth of jewels and cash stolen and four people killed, including a Ranger.”

“Wrong.”

He said it with such utter conviction that I believed him. I didn’t want to, but I did. My head swiveled toward McNally. She stood with her arms folded, back straight, and eyes on
the floor. Her stance and silence only served to confirm that Psystorm was telling the truth. Revisionist history, my ass. It sounded like good, old-fashioned lying. More lying by MHC. And what about my father? Had he known the truth, or had he somehow been duped, as well? Had he lied to me?

A cold rage churned deep inside me. “Then, what’s right?” I asked, giving him back my full attention.

“Ocean City, Maryland,” he said. “Twelve days before Trenton. Three of us were down there, laying low. You remember the names Acid and Somnus?”

I tried to recall them, to give us something else to connect over, and failed. They were not only unfamiliar names, I had no conscious memory of hearing them in reference to a Bane, living or dead. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“I’m first to admit we weren’t saints. The three of us made a lot of money robbing private residences. All I had to do was knock on the door and hold the home owner in my thrall while my partners emptied the place. We were criminals, yes, but we avoided violence whenever possible. When things started getting hot, we went down to Maryland to hide. We had no intention of starting trouble, just getting our shit together, so we holed up in a rented house and kept to ourselves.”

“The fire.” I remembered the newspapers strewn across our apartment, headlines about half a mile of the Ocean City boardwalk burning to the ground. Arson was mentioned—nothing about Bane interference, no mention of a battle as the cause of the blaze. Just my dad talking about a Corps Unit being dispatched and trying to save as many lives as possible.

“The fire,” Psystorm said. “I bet your old man never told you that we were down there trying to help save lives. Pulling kids out of burning hotels, keeping folks calm until your precious Corps Unit showed up. Only they didn’t stop to ask questions when they arrived. They saw us, recognized us, and assumed we were responsible.”

I inhaled, held it, until he said what I hoped he wouldn’t.

“Your people killed Acid and Somnus for trying to help,” he continued. “That’s all we were doing was trying to help. No one reported our presence, because it would make you people look bad. They shot first, never asked questions, then covered it up. That started it for me, kiddo. After your old mentors killed Somnus, my wife, it didn’t take much for Specter to convince me.”

Grief for two people I hadn’t known, two innocent lives lost, struck me hard. Senseless, all of it, the whole damned War. Could the death and destruction have been avoided completely? The notion made me want to vomit.

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked, eyebrows raising. “Too bad your precious predecessors weren’t sorry. I followed Specter out of a keen desire for revenge. Not against you kids, though. Those last few weeks when he wanted to exterminate children … a lot of us started to speak up, only it was too late. When we lost our powers, the feds tossed every one of us onto this forsaken island and locked it down.”

His attention shifted to McNally. She continued to stare at the floor, and I wondered now if she regretted staying in the room. She must have known Psystorm would air all sorts
of dirty laundry implicating MHC in even more not-so-nice things. She just stood there, listening, and didn’t react. Didn’t try to find fault in any of his statements. Didn’t try to excuse herself this time.

I kind of admired her for it. I also wanted to blast her through the wall.

He was watching me again. “What exactly do you want from me, Trance? Loyalty?”

“No, just a promise. In exchange for this pardon, you help us find and contain Specter. Once he has been permanently neutralized, you’re free to go.”

“Neutralized?” He spat the word, as though it was a curse on his name. “You want me to help you kill him?”

“Contain him. I should want the bastard dead for the things he’s done to us this past week. He’s been responsible for the deaths of seven Rangers, my friends, but I’m tired of killing. I just want him stopped.” Besides, if we killed him I’d never know who was helping him. I’d never sniff out the traitor who had spilled about Fairview, the interview, everything.

I moved forward again, until my breath puffed vapor circles on the glass partition. “Don’t misunderstand me, Psystorm. I don’t want to restart the cycle of killing that brought us to this moment, but if it comes down to his life versus the life of anyone else, he can die.”

He puckered his lips, eyebrows slanting. The expression held for the space of several breaths, then his face softened. He looked almost peaceful. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” I stumbled over the words. As much as we
needed him, a tiny part of me hadn’t expected his acquiescence. An earlier portion of our conversation came back. “Just one thing, though. You mentioned you lived with seventy-two people on the island? How’s that possible?”

His damned eerie smile returned, and he said, “We were powerless, Trance, not neutered. Men and women, prisoners or not, still have sex. Babies are born, which brings me around to one condition affecting my acceptance of this deal you’re offering.”

“Which is?”

“My son. I want him to come with us. He goes where I go, so if he stays on the island, then so do I.”

Surprise washed over me. In war, they teach soldiers to dehumanize the enemy, to make killing easier. I’d been raised to believe the Banes were monsters, less than human, so it had never occurred to me that the imprisoned Banes had constructed real lives for themselves. Once powerless, the country had essentially forgotten about them. News reports never mentioned the population increase inside the prison. No one wanted to remind the world that the Banes were still people, too.

“Where’s your son?” McNally asked. “We’ll send someone to get him.”

Psystorm closed his eyes briefly, and then reopened them. “He’s on his way to the main gate. They’ll find him there.”

“I’ll go.” McNally turned to me. “We’ll meet you at the helipad.”

Caleb was younger than I expected, and he walked with the slumped shoulders of a boy who’d seen too much for only five short years on earth. His mop of black hair and almond eyes were not from his father. The only resemblance to Psystorm was in his sharp nose and thin frame. The boy ran to his father the moment they saw each other. Psystorm swept him up in his arms, holding him close. Unlike his father, Caleb wasn’t fitted with a security collar.

McNally shuffled us toward the waiting copter. I allowed father and son to climb inside first. She grabbed my elbow, pulled me back, and then slipped something into my hand. A black box, smaller than my Vox, with a plastic cover and switch.

“For the collar,” she whispered. “Just in case. One push will render him unconscious. Two will kill him.”

I pocketed the device, sick at having it offered in the first place. She didn’t trust Psystorm. Having it was the responsible thing. I would risk my life at his hands, but not the lives of my remaining teammates.

We climbed inside, and I sat across from our guests. Caleb gazed around the interior, wide-eyed and trembling. He had never been outside of the prison gates. The upcoming jet ride across the country was an experience he would never forget. He sat nearly in his father’s lap, hands bunched in Psystorm’s shirt.

“Are we gonna fly, Daddy?” he asked. “Fly like birds?”

“Yes, we are, Caleb,” Psystorm said, voice soft and reassuring. A doting father. “We’ll fly up with the birds, and in a few hours, we’ll see a brand-new ocean. A pretty one, much bluer than the river. Do you want to see that?”

Caleb nodded, his longish hair flopping into his eyes. “Can Mommy come and see it, too?”

“Mommy’s too sick to come this time.” He looked at me over his son’s head. I forgot the block and was barraged with an overwhelming sense of sadness. “Maybe next trip, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was odd that Psystorm hadn’t negotiated for the release of Caleb’s mother. Or mentioned her in any way, other than just being too sick to travel. It could have been true. It could have been an angry ex’s way of getting his son away from the woman who birthed him, or a doting father’s method of telling his son they were leaving Mommy behind. I didn’t much care, as long as Psystorm did what he promised.

We lifted into the air and turned toward Newark. Caleb pressed his nose against the glass and watched. It was the middle of the night, close to dawn. The sun would chase us home. We’d arrive on the West Coast before it rose there. It would rise, though, and finally end the longest day of my life. The death of a friend, the discovery of a new Ranger, and the freeing of a Bane who wanted a better life for himself and his child. It was too much. All I wanted right now was to crawl into Gage’s arms and sleep. Barring that, a big, steaming mug of coffee would suffice.

My stomach grumbled.

“What are you thinking about, Trance?” Psystorm asked.

I looked up and smiled. “You can’t read my mind?”

“I could, but I won’t without your permission. Trust has to start somewhere, right?”

“You’re right.”

“So?”

“I was trying to imagine the looks on peoples’ faces if we tried to hit a drive-thru in this thing. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“You’re starving? You should see what we had to get by on. It’s been fifteen years since I had a simple cheeseburger, much less a filling meal.”

Caleb ignored our conversation about food, too intent on the colorful lights streaking by below. Could those thin arms and bony knees be a result of his father’s narrow build, or was the child truly malnourished? I had a hard time believing our government would knowingly allow children to suffer. Logic told me the imprisoned Banes would have done anything to hide the existence of those kids from the guards. They ran the risk of having their children taken away.

Had keeping Caleb a secret been selfish on Psystorm’s part, or simply the blind act of a loving father? Looking at them together, I was inclined to believe the latter.

“Has Caleb ever had a doughnut?” I asked.

“No,” Psystorm said. The boy didn’t seem to notice he’d been mentioned.

I picked up a pair of headphones and put them on. “Pilot?”

“If you see a bakery on the way back to Newark, I want you to land. We’re stopping for breakfast before we head home.”

I gave Psystorm a withering stare. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He shook his head and pursed his lips, chin trembling. I felt his gratitude and didn’t shield myself from it. For the first time in my life, I felt kinship with a Bane.

My dad was probably rolling in his grave.

N
o one was waiting on the Base helipad—a welcomed change from last night’s arrival. Caleb seemed nervous to exit the copter. He clutched a box of bakery doughnuts to his chest as his dad carried him off. We had capped his sugar limit to two doughnuts every four hours. The boy was content enough to just have the sweet treats close. On the other hand, I had downed a twenty-four-ounce black coffee (which had little effect on my energy levels) and desperately needed to pee.

McNally led the way across the roof to the stairwell door, Psystorm and son between us. It was still mostly dark. Slivers of light danced on the eastern horizon. If Specter stayed par for the course, we had a good six hours or so before he was strong enough to come after us again.

It wasn’t enough time.

Halfway down, footsteps thundered up the stairwell. One set, moving fast. On the third-floor landing, we stopped and waited. Gage appeared moments later, red-faced and a little out of breath. He ignored McNally,
spared a contemptuous glance at Psystorm, then stalked over to me.

“We need to talk,” he said without preamble.

“It’s good to see you, too.” I was too tired to properly field his indignation. “Mind if I pee first?”

The question caught him off-guard, and he stumbled over his response. “Fine.”

“Agent McNally, can you take Psystorm and Caleb over to Medical and have them checked out? I have a feeling Caleb’s never visited a regular doctor.”

Psystorm shook his head, confirming my suspicion, and the trio continued down. I descended to level two and left the stairwell. Gage followed silently as I sought out the bathroom facilities. He waited by the sinks while I dashed into a stall and disposed of that morning’s caffeine distribution system.

He waited until I was washing my hands to speak. “What the hell were you thinking, Teresa? Going out there alone was stupid.”

“Going out there alone was the smartest thing I’ve done since I took this damned job.”