Chapter 26 #2
Goddammit. “Down!” he yelled.
Rowan obeyed, rolling with sweet natural grace as he and Henderson peppered the lone tracker with lead.
She gained her feet again in a skidding rush, not bothering to glance back, and he realized just how beautiful it was to see her running again.
He’d missed seeing her go all-out. She looked like a cheetah, as if it was no big deal to be moving over ground so easily.
She almost ran into him, barely slowed; Henderson whirled and took point to lead her out.
Del checked the hall, turned on his heel, and fell in behind to cover.
The crackle of her talent washed over him, a lightning storm about to happen.
Bullets pocked the wall as they made another corner, pursuing guards shooting wildly, uncomfortably close.
As they scrambled down the stairs, he wished he could stop and give her some shoes. When they hit gravel outside she was going to get hurt.
Yoshi’s voice suddenly crackled to life in his ear.
“Keep moving. You’re clear for now, so go.
Go, go, go. The timer’s set, counting down, twenty seconds.
Eighteen. Fifteen. Watch your flank, Del.
There’s heavy fire over there; Henderson take the left turn.
Move, guys. Move.” A pause sizzling through the comm, Yosh letting them work, keeping his mouth shut when he had nothing to offer.
Then, “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. We have liftoff.”
A massive faraway boom shook the air as Henderson kicked a door open; then they were outside, cutting across a graveled drive, Del’s boots crunching, bullets popping, digging into dirt. Darkness, movement, confusion reigned supreme, conspired to make every shot miss.
Fire began in the bottom of Del’s lungs. He’d abused his own frame not only tonight but before, with no time to rest up between Carson’s bodyguard and this little shindig.
But Rowan’s pale head bobbing before him made it worthwhile.
Henderson jerked and skidded, as if he’d been hit.
Rowan, right on his heels, caught his arm and hauled him upright.
And yes, it was official. She had perhaps gone crazy, because she was laughing as she hauled the old man along, her eyes wide and wild, pale cheeks slick and shiny with tears Del could feel against his own face.
Then, wonder of wonders, he heard tires on gravel. A black van, headlights dark and dead, speeding toward them, throwing up chunks of crushed stone.
“It’s us, guys.” Yoshi, enunciating clearly even through static. “We’re coming to get you, so continue on present course. Zeke got clipped and Boomer’s furious, but otherwise we’re at a hundred percent.”
Henderson didn’t bother correcting him about the hundred percent. Neither did Del; he needed his breath for running.
A skidding, smoking half-turn and the side of the van was open, Brew leaning out. Rowan all but boosted Henderson in; Del was right behind her, crowding, his hands on her waist. He fairly threw her into the van. Hopped in himself, grabbing the quick-release catch.
Cath swerved, avoiding something in the van’s path. Boomer already had his comm off and was ripping open packs of gauze. Del slammed the door, the noise of bullets suddenly distant. Darkness pressed like a wet bandage against his eyes despite the faint glow of monitors.
The plastic explosive had worked better than even Yoshi had suggested. Every light in the complex was out.
“Goddammit! Motherfuck!” Cath was swearing, a low steady monotony of obscenities so familiar Del could have mouthed along. He ignored it, sliding his guns back into the holsters. The air was suddenly close and rank.
“Rowan? Ro?” I sound like I’m fifteen again.
“How bad is he?” Rowan’s voice broke; she sobbed, openly. Brew was already sliding into the passenger seat while Yoshi braced himself in the tiny chair, fingers dancing over the keyboard, stringing code.
They weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Bad news, Cath!” Yoshi yelled. “Front door’s closed!”
Cath’s only answer was an unrepeatable term which raised even Del’s eyebrows and the sudden jolt of acceleration as she smashed the gas pedal to the floor. Del lost his balance and fell, managing to land on something soft and familiar.
If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it kissing her. He found her cheek against his in the darkness. The van careened over a bump, Rowan let out a short cry of pain he smothered with his own mouth.
“You’re bleeding pretty badly,” Boomer muttered. “Dammit, old man, say something.”
“You fuss like an old woman.” Henderson’s voice, tight with pain. Del wondered where he’d been hurt, found he didn’t care at the moment. “Quit it.”
“You’re stepping on me.” This from Zeke, uncomfortably wedged in the far back.
Del also didn’t care who was stepping on Zeke.
He slid his fingers into Rowan’s hair and kissed her again, savagely, teeth pressing against her lips.
She gasped into his mouth; he tasted the chemical sourness of some drug.
Fear smashed into him. Zed? Or something else?
Slick wetness on her cheeks, and she shuddered so hard it was almost convulsions.
Her hip was braced against the door; a small wounded sound rose in her throat.
“I’ll be all right. Just my leg. I’ll need a fucking cane.” Henderson said, his hand white in the dimness as he reached for steadiness, braced against the edge of Yoshi’s console.
“Watch the guns, watch the guns!” Brewster’s voice hit a pitch Del had never heard before.
“Get ready!” Cath shouted. “Or this is gonna be one fuckuva short trip!”
“Oh, cra—” Whatever Henderson intended to say was lost in the impact as Cath barreled them through the fence. Bullets chewed along armor plating, but with the grid down and the backup power disabled, the entire brooding anthill of Zero-Fifteen was critically disabled.
By the time the Sigs got their wits about them, the Society ops would be lost in the urban wilds of Taos, scattering to rendezvous back at Headquarters.
The van would be abandoned, the bodies of Section 511 would be found at the bottom of a dry gulch, and the Society would have pulled off yet another hat-trick miracle.
Jesus Christ. He kissed Rowan’s cheek, her ear, the slippery tangle of her hair. Then communication, as he flooded the link with crazed relief at finding her.
Don’t do that, don’t you EVER do that to me again. Goddammit, woman, I thought I’d lost you. You could have been killed. You could have been—
“How we doing, Yosh?” Henderson heaved himself up, his voice brittle with pain. Boomer made an exasperated sound and braced the General, trying to keep compression against a wound high on the old man’s right thigh.
“No pursuit, sir. There’s some kind of snarl in the chain of command, and nothing’s getting done. Better than we’d hoped.” Yoshi sounded cautiously optimistic. “Cath?”
“We didn’t lose any tires, so I’m happy. Zeke? Zeke, baby, talk to me.”
“I think I sprained my ankle, and Boomer stepped on me,” Zeke answered morosely. “Great drivin’, Cathy.”
“Amen to that.” Boomer made a short, snorting sound. “How’s that for payback? Yeah!” It was the closest to unadulterated joy Del had ever heard from the man.
“Anton,” Rowan whispered, and Del’s skin went cool and rough with terror and gooseflesh. “He… Jilssen…”
“Later,” Del promised, taking a little pity and struggling not to crush her. She probably couldn’t breathe with him lying atop. A spike of frustrated heat went through him, an animal reaction to the adrenaline surge.
Every time I get some time alone with you, something else happens. I swear to God I’m going to lock you in a room and spend some time getting to know you again in the best way, angel.
It was the sudden rubber-band snap of released tension, postcombat jitters. “You were under a compulsion, Ro. I didn’t spot it. My fucking fault, I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry—”
“They’re not even scrambling helicopters,” Yoshi said, wonderingly. “Wow. What the hell?”
“Anton,” Rowan choked again. “I killed Jilssen. He’s dead, I killed him.”
Christ. His knee felt bruised, but he wedged it against the floor and dragged her up to sitting. Propped her back against the locked door and started feeling for any damage, mostly to reassure himself she was still alive.
“Road’s clear,” Brewster said from the front. “This is fantastic.”
“Let’s not get cocky. Yoshi, find out what the hell’s happened. Rowan, what about Anton?” The bite of command in Henderson’s tone made her stiffen.
Del almost opened his mouth to take the old man down a peg for barking at her, but he was right. They needed to know.
Rowan gulped. He touched her collarbone, her arms. Then he felt her knee, her ankle, and spread his hand against her belly. Her tank top had ridden up. He felt warm, soft skin and almost groaned.
“Jilssen.” She choked on the word. Delgado realized she was weeping, messily and completely as a child. “He wanted to breed me. They wanted to breed me. I killed him. I killed him and then Anton came in—”
“Christ.” Del caught her shoulders, stopped from shaking her by a sheer effort of will. “Did he hurt you? Did he?” His stomach boiled at the thought.
“Let her talk, Delgado.” Henderson moved irritably so Boomer could tighten the tourniquet.
“H-he had a gun.” She held up her own piece, fingers locked outside the trigger guard. “T-tried t-t-to use his t-talent on me. I burned him, I burned him out. I wanted to kill him. God, I wanted to kill him.”
You’re not the only one, angel.
“Burned him?” Henderson sucked in a breath as Boomer yanked.
“Sit the fuck down, General. You’re bleeding on me.”
“Bite it, soldier. Burned him, Rowan?” Henderson cocked his head.
Dammit, leave her alone. She’s just been through the wringer. But he kept his mouth shut. Henderson needed this information, desperately, or he wouldn’t be pushing her.
“He’s not a psion anymore.” Her breath hitched in. “I burned his talent. Then I p-pistol whipped him. Maybe I killed him too. I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to find out.”
Silence rang through the vehicle. Then Cath whistled out through her teeth. “Good fucking deal,” she summed up. “Hope you did. Brew, how we doing?”
“No pursuit that I can see. Yosh?”
“None here, either. Their tails are still tied in a knot back there. Hope you used enough C4.”
“Enough to knock out the whole fucking grid,” Boomer replied irritably. “All the lights were down.”
“Rowan.” Del shut out the chatter. Acceleration pulled against his body as Cath took a curve. He cupped Rowan’s face in his hands. “You all right?” His voice almost broke under the sheer inadequacy of the question. “Goddammit, talk to me. Talk to me.”
“I’m not all right.” A sob cracked under her words. “I killed him. I used my talent to kill him.”
She bent forward, curving into his arms. She cried against him as if her heart was breaking; he closed his eyes, stroking her tangled hair and tasting bitterness. She should never have had to do that, face that, alone. He should have gotten to her before the Sigs did.
The full horror of what she’d experienced soaked in. His arms tightened. Fortunately, Henderson didn’t ask any more questions, just submitted to Boomer’s ministrations and began organizing the finer points of their escape.