The Proving (17 page)

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Authors: Ken Brosky

BOOK: The Proving
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There was a thunking sound and a flash of bright blue light. It hit the creature’s arm, sending yellow sparks flying in every direction. The creature’s hand sunk into the engine, disappearing inside. The Sebecus turned in the direction of Skye and Cleo.

More, smaller flashes of blue light. They hit the engine, leaving glowing blue dots that quickly dissipated.

The moaning grew louder, threatening to blow out the speakers.

“He’s hiding behind the engine,” Gabriel said, panicked now. They were doomed. They’d had a shot and they’d missed. They’d missed! “You spooked him. Run while you can!”

“There’s nowhere to run!” Cleo hissed.

“Skye. Get behind the forklift.” It was Ben’s voice, calm and methodic, as if he was guiding a young Athenian’s scalpel across her first swatch of human skin. “Give the Specter distance. It’s using echo-location to see the area.”

Skye hesitated. “We have cover.”

“It does, too. It senses a threat now. It’s going to become more aggressive the longer you keep it pinned behind the engine. If its spectral energy is strong enough to knock one engine off its hooks . . .”

“It could knock off others,” Skye finished.

“Trust your shields,” Ben said. “Give it distance. Its glow is dark orange, which means it has lots of energy already stored up. But instinct will drive it out of its cover to neutralize the threat.”

Skye turned to Cleo. Her eyes were wide; her skin was bathed in the soft glow of the Specter’s luminescence reflecting off the concrete walls. “Go,” Skye ordered. She turned back to the Specter. It was emerging from behind the engine, its long, spiked tail swinging, bumping against the hard concrete but not passing
through
it. Gabriel watched, transfixed. They weren’t ghosts, he kept telling himself . . . they were something else entirely. Something worse.

Skye turned away. The camera shook as she made her way to the other side of the large basement. The glasses outlined the two farming machines, each one sitting on four thin wheels. The middle machine stood silent sentry, its spider-like arms spread wide like the delicate finger bones of a bat.

They reached the third machine and turned, crouching low and peering out from around its drilling arm. Their glasses identified the Specter, highlighting the single burst of proton energy that had hit its arm. Little yellow sparks seemed to bleed from the hole, fluttering to the ground and disappearing. It was skulking slowly toward the forklift, walking on all fours.

“It’s wounded,” Tahlia whispered over Gabriel’s shoulder. “Wounded animals are more desperate and dangerous.”

“Just like wounded humans,” Gabriel whispered.

Another low moan, so loud that it rattled the chains hanging above the creature’s head. Two hooks snapped and the hanging transistor device swung toward the creature, slipping through its translucent body. Its fiery orange color diminished just a bit, just enough for the Tumbler’s CPU to send a message to Skye’s glasses. Gabriel watched, hypnotized, terrified. He tucked his hands around his ribs, suddenly cold. It would kill them both. It would slip through their bodies and steal their very souls.

The creature moved silently, reaching out and grabbing the forklift and
pulling itself up
. It turned its long, crocodile-like snout, searching.
Sniffing
. The images grew distorted for a moment as the wireless signal struggled to keep up with the data feed.

“It’s mimicking an animal,” Tahlia said without a shred of fear in her voice. In fact, Gabriel was pretty sure she had a hint of
fascination
in her tone. “Ben! Do you see that? Specters can’t smell! But it’s
trying
to!”

“Cleo,” Ben whispered. “My feed keeps cutting out. Watch it closely. Is it passing through any objects, or is it going around them? Type the answer on your VRacelet.”

Both cameras were transfixed on the creature. It fell back on all fours, moving around the forklift. Cleo’s answer appeared on the bottom of both of the floating holo-screens:

AROUND.

“They spend energy when they pass through objects,” Ben said in a low, calm voice. “It’s saving its energy because it senses danger. Skye, you might be able to use one of those pieces of farming equipment for cover.”

Skye’s camera panned down. Her fingers reached out and typed something on Cleo’s VRacelet. The message appeared on the bottom of the holographic screens on Gabriel’s console:

HOW MANY SHOTS

“I don’t know,” Ben answered. “I’m sorry. I’ve . . . I’ve never seen one so
dark orange
before.”

“You will need at least eight clear shots with the VR rifle. More with the pistol.” It was the Historian, Seamus. “Based on recorded encounters, that is.”

“Boundless sleep,” Gabriel whispered. A Blake poem popped into his head:

My spectre around me night and day

Like a wild beast guards my way.

My emanation far within

Weeps incessantly for my sin.

A fathomless and boundless deep,

There we wander, there we weep;

On the hungry craving wind

My spectre follows thee behind.

Cleo and Skye looked at each other. Cleo’s tense fear had become etched so tightly into her soft features that Gabriel feared her skin might flake away. Skye’s face was still calm, still controlled. But a bead of sweat had gathered on her forehead, reflecting the orange glow.

The Specter stepped around the forklift . . .

Skye’s eyes widened. She grabbed Cleo’s arm and pulled her around the other side of the drilling machine. Gabriel leaned in, fighting the urge to hide underneath the console. He couldn’t speak. His lips refused to part.

It had to be close: an eerie, fiery light slipped between the large farming machines, illuminating the rows of spare parts on the opposite shelving units. Gabriel leaned in, watching the Specter’s large, lizard-shaped body move past the multi-armed farming machine. First its crocodile-like head, then its massive torso, then its long spiked tail.

The glow remained, but the creature’s body was gone. It’s right there, Gabriel mentally urged Skye, right on the other side of the farming machines. The girls turned around. All Gabriel could see was what Skye and Cleo were seeing: the row of shelves opposite the farming machines. His heart sank. His brain seemed to scream out, causing his vision to blur.

This was all a mistake. They shouldn’t have come here. Had Gabriel’s mother known it would be dangerous, she never would have arranged to transfer him and Wei into this Coterie. This was all a cruel twist of fate. It was supposed to be a routine mission.
It was supposed to be safe.

“Oh no,” Tahlia whispered.

The orange glow spilled out between the farming machine’s arms, temporarily blinding the cameras.

Their backs were to the Specter.

Cleo and Skye were going to die.

Chapter 11: Skye Mitchell
Clan Sparta

Closer. They were bathed in the Specter’s glow now; it was moving behind the other side of the farming equipment, moaning so deeply that Skye could feel it vibrating her bones. She didn’t dare try to shoot it . . . any noise would give away her position, and right now she had the advantage. She glanced over her shoulder, watching its spiked tail rise up over the machines. If it continued, it would either turn left — and spot them both — or turn right, and leave its back exposed.

But it can sense us. It can feel our neural energy . . .

It would turn left.

The glow slipped between the gap to Skye’s left. She felt an odd tingle run down her spine. An urge to run.

Don’t run . . . just wait . . .

The glow stopped. The shadows of the picking machine’s arms drew over the gravel. Gabriel’s voice was whispering in her ear run, run, run, so fast that it matched the rhythm of her frantic heartbeat.  

It’s not moving . . . it senses us!

“Skye, listen.” It was Ben’s voice, quiet and calm, as if he were whispering secrets only to her. His composure slowed Skye’s heart rate. “According to the Pauli exclusion principle, no two electrons can exist in the same quantum state. That’s why, even though matter is mostly empty, we still appear to be solid. It’s an illusion, but it’s one that works really well. You’re not really holding the VR rifle in your hand — there is less than a nanometer of space between your hand and your glove, and your glove and your gun. The Specters can break this principle. That’s how they pass through solid objects. It requires tremendous energy.
Use that knowledge against them
.”

Skye took a deep breath, held it, then forced it out quickly between her pursed lips. The loud whistle seemed ear-splitting, jolting her nerves — too late to change her mind now, she twisted her body, her boots digging into the gravel as she fell back and faced the farming contraptions. She lifted her rifle, seeing the Specter’s strange glow change, move, and then without warning its crocodile face emerged from the body of the large machine. Its mouth opened. Cleo fell back, screaming. A claw phased through, reaching out for Skye.

She fired her rifle. The blue proton bullet tore through the creature’s arm, sending yellow sparks fluttering like butterflies into the air. The Specter’s mouth opened wide, revealing sharp, finger-length teeth, so close that Skye could see their serrated edges.

It can’t bite you It can’t bite you It can’t bite you It can’t bite you . . .

She pulled the trigger again, and proton bullets tore through the side of the creature’s mouth. Instead of roaring it only let out a low moan and reached out with its other hand, pressing down on Skye’s Xenoshield. She could
feel
it pushing on her, pushing her rifle away from her body. She couldn’t aim her rifle; the force of the creature pressing against her shield system made it impossible. Its head slipped through the machine, followed by its torso. Its fiery orange claws dug into her shield, which seemed to burn white at the Specter’s touch. A yellow warning blinked on her glasses:

SHIELD STRENGTH 60%

Cleo screamed louder. In her ear, Skye could hear the kids screaming, too.

She fell back onto the floor. The Specter loomed over her, three times as big, the side of its face bleeding little yellow globules of energy. It opened its mouth, reaching out to Skye with both arms . . .

Trust the shields.

She drew her legs in toward her body . . .

SHIELD STRENGTH 40%

. . . And pushed with every ounce of muscle she had.

The Specter’s body pressed against the shield. It protected Skye’s legs like a bubble, glowing white near the soles of her boots where the Specter’s scaly chest was pressing against it. The Specter reached for her face but the shield stopped the claws six inches from her skin. The orange tips of each claw dug into the shield, creating dull white ripples that seemed to float across the air. Skye could
feel
the force of the creature pressing down against the shield, testing her leg muscles. She took a deep breath and pushed her legs again.

SHIELD STRENGTH 30%

You’re going to die!

Skye screamed, using every ounce of strength in her leg muscles to push the Specter back.

In the corner of her right lens, her shield meter went from yellow to red.

SHIELD STRENGTH 20%

Is your time to die, girl? Or will the light of the summer moon hold back the night?

The muscles in her legs ached. Her vision seemed to blur as the Specter’s jaws snapped silently at her head. Orange drool slipped out between two teeth, landing on her shield and rolling off the shield.

A blue bullet flew through the air, piercing the side of the Specter’s scaly shoulder. Then three more. Yellow sparks showered from the wounds. The Specter’s dark orange glow dimmed to the color of a tangerine.

“Die!” Cleo shouted. “Die, die, die, die, die!”

Skye extended her legs, pushing the Specter away from her body. She brought the VR rifle up, aimed the barrel at the creature’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

Again.

And again.

And again.

With each shot, the creature seemed to float backward. Three more shots hit it in the side. Its tangerine glow dimmed to a faded yellow. It opened its mouth again and Skye fired a precise shot. The jaw detached, dissipating into little speckles of ash. Skye fired twice more. Both blue proton bullets tore through its head, hitting the farming equipment and leaving circular burn marks.

The Specter’s body broke apart like a holographic image abruptly cut off. Yellow ashes floated to the ground, landing among the gravel rocks. The last of their glow dissipated, leaving Cleo and Skye in darkness.

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