Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (19 page)

He was a behemoth of a man whose head nearly touched the roof of the car. Completely bald, he wore a dark suit much like Nolan’s that seemed somehow stiffer, with straighter lines, as if it had been cut from cardboard.

Allyn cursed. He’d seen the man before.

Special Agent Richard Maddox.

Chapter 22

A
gent Maddox kicked open the door, slamming it into Agent Nolan’s shoulder and knocking him out of the way. He was out of the car in an instant, his hand going to the inside of his jacket for his sidearm.

Allyn shoved Jaxon forward then bolted across the empty parking lot. He raced toward their car—there was nothing but open blacktop between him and it. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to take cover. He thought he heard Jaxon’s footsteps behind him, but he wasn’t sure. It might have been the deep booming noise of his blood pulsing through his ears.
Where’s Nyla? Where were Leira and Rory?

Gunshots ripped through the night.

Allyn stumbled, covering his head, waiting for the inevitable searing pain that accompanied a gunshot wound.

“Freeze!”

It might have been years of societal influences or his fear of being shot, but Allyn froze. No sooner had he slid to a halt than a powerful force slammed into him. Allyn hit the ground hard, slapping onto the blacktop. Jaxon landed on him, pushing the air from his lungs.
The black mass of muscle and might rolled off him, landing in a crouch. Allyn struggled to his side, blinking away pain.

Gun raised, Maddox advanced, shouting instructions into his radio.

Nolan remained still, eyes darting between Allyn and Maddox, watching the scene play out.

Where the hell are the other magi?

“Stay on the ground!” Maddox was only a couple of parking spaces away, his voice booming. “Hands on top of your heads. Do it now!”

Allyn leaned on an elbow, placing his off hand on his head. The power raged inside him, mixing with adrenaline. Most times, he had to pull it out of him, to
project
it, but the power boiled through him like expanding gases within a canister, ready to explode. Allyn fought to wrestle it under control. Maddox would accurately see the magic as a threat and react accordingly, and Allyn wasn’t willing to kill the agent just so he could save his own skin.

“I said, put your fucking hands on your fucking head!”

Jaxon had remained crouching on the balls of his feet, hands at his sides, fingers splayed. Maddox recognized the threat but not the extent. Jaxon rose slowly. He was steady and cautious yet confident.

“Last chance,” Maddox said coldly. “Get on the ground with your hands on your head, or I will bury a bullet in your chest.”

Jaxon rose and squared on Maddox.

Maddox fired.

Jaxon cried out and dropped to the ground, clutching his thigh.

“No!” Rory and Leira rounded the corner of the restaurant at a full sprint.

Maddox turned on them, gun at the ready. Blue light enveloped Rory’s hands as shards of ice formed in his palms. He hurled them forward. More shots split the night, and Leira and Rory dove for cover. The ice blast narrowly missed Maddox, whipping at his suit jacket as it zipped past. Vague comprehension formed on his face, and his expression hardened.

“Stop!” Nolan bellowed.

Nobody complied.

Rory was on his knees, wielding fire. Unlike the ice, which could disappear in the darkness, the fire burned bright, streaking across the empty parking lot like a meteor entering the atmosphere. Maddox dove to the side, avoiding the fireball.

Allyn checked on Jaxon. He was on the ground, a few feet away, still clutching his leg. The blacktop beneath it was dark with blood. “How bad?” Allyn asked.

“I’m fine,” Jaxon grumbled, gritting his teeth. “Help me up.”

Allyn took his hand and pulled. Jaxon’s injured leg was like a deep root that wasn’t ready to be unearthed, and it took nearly everything Allyn had, but he got Jaxon on his feet. Rory and Leira’s entering the fray left Allyn and Jaxon on the outskirts of the battle, and nothing was between them and the car. Ren was still waiting there, taking cover behind an opened door, watching. Maddox had his back to them. Occupied with Leira and Rory, he would never notice Allyn and Jaxon slipping away, but Jaxon didn’t show any signs of wanting to flee.

Leira and Rory cut the distance between them and Maddox in half then split to flank him. Maddox followed Rory with his eyes, clearly considering him the greater threat.

Another shot echoed through the empty streets. The battle froze. Attention turned to Nolan. He stood with his gun in the air, his other hand outstretched as if he were preparing to wield. He leveled the pistol on Rory. “Stop,” he commanded. “And place your hands behind your head. Make one move, and I pull this trigger.”

Rory didn’t have a chance to obey. Maddox fired, and Rory crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain.

Allyn felt the heat before he saw the flame wrap around Jaxon’s arm.

“Jaxon!” he screamed.

But there was no stopping the man. Maddox turned just as Jaxon threw the blast. It didn’t take the shape of a fireball. Pure flame erupted from Jaxon’s hands. It sped toward Maddox, tendrils of fire stretching forward like a living creature seeking Maddox’s flesh.

“No!”

A flash of light sparked in the distance, and a white orb collided with the flame. It exploded, and a violent shockwave hurled everyone away from the blast.

Allyn found himself on the ground, his hands raw and clothing torn from sliding across the blacktop. His face was singed, and he tentatively brought a hand to it. Hot but not bloody. A minor burn. Jaxon was beside him, groaning as he rolled onto his back.

A figure stepped forward, his hands glowing with white light. Nolan. With one glowing hand pointed toward Allyn and Jaxon, he held out the other to help Maddox to his feet. The older agent cowered, shielding himself as if he were afraid his partner was about to strike him.

“Come on.” Nolan waved Maddox up. “On your feet.”

Maddox found his gun and stood, keeping his distance from the younger agent. He remained silent, but there was fury in his eyes.

“Cuff them,” Nolan said.

Maddox shook himself out of his stupor, bringing his gun back up to point it at Jaxon. He approached cautiously, though any pretense of fighting seemed to have drained from Jaxon. Nolan’s attack had left more than just Maddox wary.

“What are you doing?” Allyn asked. “You’re not one of
them
.”

Nolan gave him a quizzical expression but said nothing, instead covering his partner as he rolled Jaxon onto his stomach to cuff his hands behind his back. Leira was tending to Rory several paces away, while Nyla was—

Nyla!

As silent and nimble as a lioness, she dashed forward, using her dark compression armor to blend into the shadows. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun and covered with a hood.

“I’m sorry, Allyn,” Nolan said. Then quieter, he added, “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” He never noticed Nyla sneaking up behind him.

Her hands snaked forward, taking Nolan by the sides of his face. A bright light flared on contact, illuminating the insides of Nolan’s eyes as if he were a jack-o’-lantern. He went limp then fell to the ground, unconscious. Before Maddox had a chance to turn, Nyla was on him, too. She struck hard, kicking Maddox’s wrist as he pulled Jaxon’s arms behind his back. Maddox cried out in pain and turned just as Nyla drove her knee into his face. He fell onto his back, and Nyla landed on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees. Just as she’d done Nolan, she gripped Maddox’s face and forced him under. She rose, looking over her shoulder at Allyn and Jaxon.

Allyn jumped to his feet, biting back pain. The shockwave had hurled him a good ten feet, and his chest felt as if it had been kicked in. He and Nyla pulled Jaxon up, and Allyn shouldered the injured man.

“You’re hurt,” Nyla said, gesturing toward Jaxon’s bleeding leg.

“I’ll be fine,” Jaxon said. “Check on Rory.”

Nyla dashed across the parking lot, sliding to a stop beside Rory. The young man was flat on his back, arms and legs spread to the sides. His breathing was quick and shallow. Leira had ripped open his shirt at the shoulder. Using the torn cloth to keep the wound clean, she worked in quick bursts to heal him. Gunshots were difficult to treat. The entry wound was the least of their concern—the shockwave the bullet created when it punctured the body caused all sorts of tissue damage, and if the bullet had ricocheted off a bone…
They know what they’re doing
.

“What do we do with them?” Allyn asked, looking at the unconscious men in front of him.

“Leave them,” Jaxon said.

“Nolan is one of us.”

“He might be able to wield,” Jaxon said. “But he’s not one of us. You don’t believe this was a coincidence, do you?”

I don’t know what I believe
. Nolan’s actions seemed at odds with his words.

“You’re too trusting, Allyn,” Jaxon continued. “This is the same situation as the Hyland refugees. If you don’t learn, people will continue to use your credulity against you.”

Allyn took a deep breath. Jaxon was right. His decisions continued to lead to his friends getting hurt.

“We need to get your leg looked at,” Allyn said, thinking of Mason. “We can’t lose you, too.”

“Later,” Jaxon said. “Right now, we need to get back to the cabin.”

Jaxon raised his hand into the air and beckoned Ren forward. The sedan roared as Ren raced across the parking lot like a teenager driving for the first time without her parents. She skidded to a halt, car tires squealing and filling the air with the scent of burnt rubber.

Allyn helped Jaxon hobble to the car. Allyn threw open the back door, and Jaxon fell into the backseat.

“Scoot over,” Allyn said, opening the driver’s door.

Ren frowned but complied, and Allyn moved the car alongside Rory and the two clerics. They lifted the injured magi, and Allyn jumped out of the car to open the back door so they could slide him inside. Rory was still conscious and obviously in pain. The left side of his shirt was soaked with blood, but the bullet seemed to have missed any vital organs. Rory gave Allyn a small smile—his teeth were stained red. The magi took pride in their injuries, like boys showing off their scars to impress a girl.

Shaking his head, Allyn returned to the driver’s door, stopping with one leg inside the vehicle. Sirens rang in the distance.

Allyn cursed, sliding inside the vehicle. He stomped on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward. Tires howled as he tried to put distance between them and the restaurant. The injured magi groaned and cursed at him from the backseat. Allyn apologized, and once they were several blocks away, he slowed down.

He used the side streets to bypass major intersections, and by the time they’d driven several miles, he felt safe enough to make for the interstate.

When the city proper was in their rearview, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. It was to be short lived, however, because within a matter of hours, the cabin would be swarming with feds. And if they had any chance of surviving, they needed to be long gone by the time that happened.

Special Agent Gary Nolan awoke to find himself in handcuffs. He was groggy and disoriented, as if he’d woken from a long night of heavy drinking. His head throbbed, pounding with the beat of his heart, and was made worse by his sudden sensitivity to light. His body ached, and his left leg was asleep. The handcuffs, which pinched his wrists and dug into his lower back, had been put on too tightly.

Maddox
, Nolan thought.

He was in the back of a squad car. Red and blue lights flashed in a steady rhythm that could have sent an epileptic into a seizure. The black leather backseat was cold and sticky. Steel bars covered the windows and separated the front seat from the back, creating a small cage that resembled a prison cell. It made Nolan claustrophobic. He shut his eyes, trying to work through his calming exercise and slow his accelerating heartbeat. The space wasn’t too confining, but he had an irrational fear that he would never get out. That he was stuck. Confined. Caged. His chest grew tight, and he began to hyperventilate. His face felt flushed as the hot flash took him.

Steady
, Nolan told himself.
Breath through it.
He kept his eyes closed, forcing himself to take a series of exaggerated breaths. He imagined an expansive blue sky. Freedom.

It’s temporary
, he thought, filling his lungs.

You’ll get out,
he told himself, exhaling.

It’s temporary.

The actions gave him something to focus on other than the mounting panic attack, and he felt his nerves relax with each breath. Eventually, the symptoms retreated enough that he was able to open his eyes. He would never be cured of claustrophobia—he still felt lightheaded—and the rest of the symptoms could flare up again at any moment. For the moment, though, he had it under control.

The squad car was parked at the edge of the diner parking lot, and a mass of cops and detectives swarmed the area cordoned off by yellow police tape. From his obscured vantage, Nolan could make out detectives taking pictures of chalk tracings and yellow identifier tags, which likely marked bloodstains, bullet casings, or other small forms of evidence. Other officers had pulled aside the restaurant staff, to take statements and information, while even more were inside the diner, dusting for prints or viewing the surveillance footage.

Nolan cursed under his breath, shifting uncomfortably.
They have me. There’s no getting out of this one.
The surveillance footage alone would show him arriving at the scene a full hour before Maddox and meeting with a fugitive alone. It would also show him leaving him behind un-apprehended.