Arc Angel (19 page)

The energy swirled and pushed, wanting to come out, to play. But wasn’t that exactly what her mystery admirer wanted? To see what she could do? She couldn’t give in so easily. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t stay here, alone in the dark, knowing that someone needed help.

Maybe she could use just a little bit of the power. If she was to have any chance of helping whomever Mr. Brown had brought here, she needed to be able to see. And if she acted quickly enough, maybe no one would know exactly what she’d done.

In one of her fights against The Syndicate, Arc Angel had surprised them in a deserted warehouse. She’d flooded the building with light so bright that it had permanently blinded the villains. Miranda didn’t want to blind anyone, but a sudden rush of light would not only help her see her surroundings, but should throw the bad guys off their game, at least temporarily.

She pictured the building’s blueprints in her mind again. The fuse box hung in the back right corner, which meant that there should be lines running from it, through the walls and into the ceiling… there. Above her and a little to the right. She matched the drawing in her mind with the echo of power she could feel overhead. She sensed the line as it split and hooked into several overhead lights.

If she could send a pulse through the fixtures above her—and surely, even without much control, she could at least do that—it would travel back to the fuse box and jolt the whole thing enough to flood the room for at least a few minutes. After that, she’d either have to send more power or go back to the darkness. Miranda supposed the correct follow-up action would be clear once she saw what lay waiting for her in the dark.

A shiver ran through her, but she forced herself to keep going.

She reached up to the ceiling, steeled herself for a moment, covered her eyes to block the imminent light, and then let the power slam through her in a sharp burst. It crackled into the nearest fixture, illuminating it instantly. The other fluorescents hooked into the same line snapped on like dominos falling, flooding the room with cold blue light that snuck through the fingers covering her eyes.

“What the…” A male voice rang through the room, followed by cursing in a slightly lower tone.

The hand Miranda had clasped over her eyes began to tremble. She knew she couldn’t move it; her eyes needed another minute to be able to handle the light. So she stayed frozen in place and hoped that she’d get her sight back before the men lying in wait did.

The light shone far brighter than it should have, but not enough to blind anyone. Miranda was just glad nothing had exploded.

She forced herself to count to 10 and then let her hand drop. The second she opened her eyes, she had to squint against the brightness, but at least she could see. And what she saw was two large men, shielding their eyes, not even bothering to holster their guns to do so.

Behind the men, on the floor, lay a large laundry bag, slumped on the floor, obviously filled with more than dirty clothes.

She wished she was back in the dark.

The power surged inside her insistently, pressing against the inside of her eyelids, the roof of her mouth and the webbing between her fingers. Her whole body shook as she tried to contain the power. For an instant, the temptation to let go completely, to let it out, overwhelmed her. Arc Angel could take care of these guys without breaking a sweat, while poor little Miranda was already drenched and the men hadn’t even seen her yet. But then she remembered the mugger. The mugger that Arc Angel had killed. And she knew she didn’t dare throw caution and consciousness to the wind. At least not yet.

“Hey, there she is!”

The guns were no longer shielding the men’s eyes, but were aimed directly at her. Their conversation, on the other hand, was addressed to each other.

“Be careful, man. The boss said this chick was dangerous.”

“She don’t look dangerous to me. She’s just an itty bitty thing.”

“She’s ‘sposed to have some kinda weapon or something. Shocks people. Said we’re ‘sposed to get her to use it. I guess he wants it or something.”

If only she had a weapon. But she
was
the weapon.

“Come on over here, Sparky!”

Wonderful. Their complete attention now focused on her.

“We heard you got something special, and we want it. Come on over here and show us.”

She stayed frozen in place. Maybe she should run after all. She may control electricity, but she did not have the power of invulnerability. If only she’d become Juggernaut instead...

“Come on! We don’t have all night. Show us what you got!”

She didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

“Don’t want to fight?” Goon #1 asked her. When she didn’t reply, he turned to his partner, though his gun never left Miranda. “Man, I told you this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“So what do we do now?” Goon #2 asked.

“Well, if she’s not willing to show us the weapon, we got two choices. One, we shoot this guy,” he kicked at the laundry bag at their feet, “and see if that gets her riled up.”

Bile rose in Miranda’s throat. Oh god, they were going to shoot the person in the bag. Whoever he was. She swallowed loudly. She needed a plan—a non-lethal one. Arc Angel always zapped the guns out of criminal’s hands, but Miranda didn’t have that kind of control. She’d either kill the guy or miss him completely. She needed to come up with something that required less finesse. What did she have to work with? Her mind raced over the floorplan again.

“And if shooting the guy don’t work?”

“If she still don’t come to us, we go to her. Maybe we get the weapon, maybe she don’t have it, but either way, I say we have some fun with Sparky over there. Make this worth our while.”

A particularly nasty smile appeared on Goon #2’s face, and he turned and pointed his gun at the laundry bag.

The combination of threats simultaneously made Miranda want to throw up and galvanized her into action.

“Stop!” Her left hand shot up and a pulse of hot light burst out and into the ceiling above her. The dry cleaning track creaked and groaned as it started to drag itself through its rotation.

Miranda stood her ground, physically and internally. At the use of the power, Arc Angel started to seep through, but Miranda fought like hell to suppress her. She didn’t know which scared her more: the men or letting Arc Angel take over. The metal track shrieked as it started to run its course.

“Well, hell, she does have it!” said Goon #1. “I saw some kinda light there for a sec.”

“Looks like she’s got a little fight in her after all,” said his partner. “Let’s see what else she’s got.” He lumbered toward Miranda, gun still drawn, but drifting downward.

Miranda forced herself to stand her ground and let him get a little closer. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, thumping loud enough to almost drown out the rumble of the track. When the gunman reached a spot less than 20 feet from her, she sent another surge into the motor overhead, rocketing the metal around the curve.

“Hey there, Sparky. You gunna show me what you—ooph!”

The man got within 10 feet of her. The heavy laundry bags she’d seen hanging on the otherwise empty track swooped out of the air and barreled into him. He sprawled on the ground. His gun skittered across the floor.

“Hey!” Goon #2 strode forward, gun still pointed directly at her.

Miranda fought hard to stay in control of her power and keep Arc Angel from breaking through, but it was a losing battle, especially as the man, and his gun, got closer.

She had no choice but to try to do what she’d seen Arc Angel do so many times on the page. She aimed directly for the man’s hand, hoping if she could control the blast she could energize his hand enough to get him to drop the gun but not enough to permanently damage him. He’d threatened to shoot the mystery man in the laundry bag and to violate her, but she couldn’t bring herself to annihilate him. She wasn’t a killer.

BUT I AM.

Arc Angel broke through just as Miranda readied her blast, and doubled the strength of the pulse. The power knocked the gun out of the goon’s hand as he shot, as planned. The crack of the bullet made Miranda flinch, though the bullet itself whizzed off to her left. But instead of only shocking his hand, the crackle of blue light traveled all the way up the man’s arm and into his torso. She could see the power gleaming in his open mouth as he screamed.

The power finally released him, and he dropped to the floor, smoke drifting up from his body. Miranda wanted to look away from the havoc Arc Angel wreaked. She knew she should be grateful that Arc Angel saved her, but the smell of a human burning, combined with the realization that she was the cause of it, made her want to retch.

After the first man fell, she turned instantly to the other goon. He’d been crawling toward the gun he’d dropped, but froze at her look.

“Don’t hurt me don’t hurt me don’t hurt me,” he babbled, cowering on the cold cement.

Miranda opened her mouth to reassure the man when Arc Angel raised her arm and sent a short pulse into his chest. He, too, screamed and collapsed.

HE DESERVED NO MERCY.

A shudder of disgust ran through her. Enough. The danger had been neutralized, which meant Miranda needed to take back the wheel. She pushed her consciousness forward, only to feel it snap back as if she’d run into a wall of rubber. She tried again, straining even harder. This time the wall stretched with her, getting thinner and thinner. She almost made it through.

A groan came from the laundry bag. Miranda ran over and pulled at the knot holding it closed. She finally ripped it open, and pulled it down over the man’s head.

It took her a few seconds to realize that she knew the man, though she didn’t know his name. He was the cab driver who’d driven her to the police station and then to Bryce’s house.

The shock let her burst through and fully reinhabit her body while Arc Angel sank down beyond her awareness.

The man looked around, his eyes still blurry and unfocused. His eyes looked at the bodies on the ground and then back at Miranda.

“¡Dios Mio! ¿Que los hiciste?”

The adrenaline left her in a whoosh, leaving her knees so weak that she staggered to stay upright. Her head swam, and she knew she only had a few seconds before she’d pass out. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Then the police could find three unconscious bodies at the scene.

She started to sink to her knees, only to find herself suspended in mid-air. It took her several seconds to realize that something had wrapped itself around her waist, halting her collapse. An arm. She focused hard. Bryce’s arm. He’d come to get her. The relief flooded through her, and her body relaxed further, slumping against Bryce for support.

“Matthews! I need you!”

Miranda felt, rather than heard, Matthews run up to them and scoop her up in his arms. Wait, why had Matthews picked her up? Bryce was already right here.

“Hurry up, man! The police will be here in a minute. We’ve got to get her out of here.”

They hurried into the night. The last thing Miranda felt before she passed out was plush upholstery against her cheek. The last thing she heard was Bryce whispering her name.

***

“Report of gunshots fired on Ashmore Street. Officers Jackson and Mellan en route.”

The late-night scanner chat didn’t usually distract Kate, especially when she was up to her neck in paperwork, like tonight. But for some reason, this call-in made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She shook her head to clear the sensation and tried to refocus and finish her report on the museum security detail. She typed in a couple of sentences before she gave up and pushed back in her desk chair. The officers should have arrived at the scene by now. What would they find? Would it explain her sense of foreboding?

“This is Officer Jackson. We need an ambulance at 438 Ashmore Street. Two men down.”

“GSW?” barked the dispatcher.

“Negative. No apparent wounds but they’re both out cold and… smoking.”

“Cigarettes?”

“No. Their bodies. They’re smoking. Looks like it could some type of electrical accident. Send the buses around back. Front entrance is blocked.”

Kate grabbed her suit jacket and purse and ran for her car. She slapped the portable police light on top of her beige Buick and zoomed off into the night. Ashmore St was about 15 minutes away, less with her light and siren going. Her fingers wrapped around the wheel in a death grip. It didn’t take her new-found sixth sense to guess that Arc Angel, otherwise known as Miranda James, had struck again.

Kate wished for the hundredth time that she’d had more time to talk to Miranda that afternoon. She wanted to know more about how the young woman had gotten the power in the first place, as well as what exactly she could do with it. Though she suspected she was about to find some evidence of the latter on Ashmore Street.

She swung the car up through the alley behind number 438 and hopped out. EMTs were hauling stretchers out of the back of the ambulance. She’d made excellent time. She strode up to the uniform cordoning off the area and flashed her badge.

“Officer Mellan’s inside.” He jerked a thumb toward the open back door, where a triangle of light poked out.

“Thanks.”

Kate stayed out of the EMTs’ way until they’d gone through the door and then followed them into the building. A quick look around the room told her they were in a dry cleaners. A second look told her this was no ordinary crime scene. The overhead track still rattled around and around and an intense light filled the room, far brighter than the few remaining fluorescent bulbs should have been able to produce. Hell, there shouldn’t have been any lights on here at all. No one paid the electric company to power an abandoned building. The whole thing would have been very mysterious if she didn’t have a damn good idea what had happened here.

She glanced next at the men on the ground, being worked on by the EMTs. Big burly guys, but both better dressed than your average street tough.

Other than their apparel, the only thing of note about the men was that they were, in fact, smoking. A faint haze clung to both men. Kate wrinkled her nose. Internal burns didn’t smell as bad as burnt flesh or hair, but neither scent could be described as pleasant.