Children of Evolution (The Gateway Series Book 2) (15 page)

Padre

Padre crouched next to the last victim to look him over one last time before dragging him to the hole. He'd checked all four bodies before they started prepping them for disposal, made sure he had a clear picture of what had happened to each. But this one had a few broken twigs that still bothered him.

That was one reason for the study. The other was the guy's size. He was easily forty kilos heavier than Padre, and still mostly intact, so waiting for Elias to help carry was the smart move all around.

His roving gaze stopped on the broken nose, the first broken twig.

Padre's grandfather had taught him basic stalking and tracking when he was little, and one of the rules he'd drilled into Padre had been to always look for the broken twig.
 

He used to say an obvious trail was coyote work, but he said it "Coyote," cursing the name with an unmistakable capital. Daniel Tall Bear Lee blamed just about everything on Coyote, his nemesis. The way he explained it, the Old Man was pissed at him for marrying a woman from another tribe, and a Canadian at that, so he tormented Tall Bear in the form of Coyote. His grandfather believed Coyote, as one of his innumerable devious acts, made obvious trails to trick hunters, namely Tall Bear, into keeping their eyes ahead so they missed the real danger hiding in the brush.
 

Paranoia notwithstanding, his grandfather was right. Obvious trails did present a real danger when tracking. They had a way of lulling to sleep the part of a scout's mind that had to stay on task when he was stalking something with a temper. If the bear you were tracking stepped off the trail for a snack and you missed the sign—the broken twig that said you were on the wrong trail—you could end up on the wrong end of the hunt before you could say "scat."

Those lessons had served Padre well over the years. They'd helped him excel in scout sniper training. They'd helped keep him alive more than a few times in the field.
 

Turned out the same basic principles his grandfather had shared about stalking a bear applied to stalking a man—stay downwind, use all your senses, keep an eye out for broken twigs, and always assume Coyote is one step ahead of you. He'd felt safe to ignore that last.

Over the years, he had come to realize his grandfather was talking about more than just tracking and stalking with his broken twigs. Tall Bear's wry smile when he imparted his nuggets of wisdom should have been a dead giveaway, but as a teenager Padre had been too caught up in his own issues to do more than notice the quirk. It wasn't until later, after his grandfather passed away, that Padre started to understand the many meanings in those lessons.
 

For a man who spoke ill of Coyote at every opportunity, Tall Bear had much in common with his supposed nemesis. He was a trickster at heart, hiding a double meaning in every lesson, such as choosing the right seeds for planting, which was really about giving in to nature, or deciding which divorcee to surprise with a basket of his garden's best, which was pretty much about the same.

His grandfather's little smiles had showed his true feelings, but Padre hadn't seen them for what they were—broken twigs. They were the signs he missed because of the obvious trail his grandfather laid.
 

In truth, Tall Bear hadn't hated Coyote, he'd emulated him, revered him. Padre suspected Coyote was more guide than nemesis to his grandfather. Might explain the actual coyotes who still ghosted Tall Bear's cabin long after their food scrap source had passed on. They were probably still out trying to hide broken twigs to honor their fallen brother.

No coyotes here though. This Runner's twigs hadn't made it past Padre. If only he could interpret what they meant.

The bear of a man lying in front of him hadn't broken his nose during the fight with Gideon. Unless, of course, he'd called a truce to stop the bleeding. And the wood splinters in what was left of his tight, sleeveless shirt hadn't come from anything in this cabin. Wrong kind of wood. Which meant he'd been in a scrape earlier somewhere else.
 

Padre had a guess as to where, based on Nikki's state when he'd picked her up. He couldn't be sure though without asking her directly, and open communicating wasn't exactly something they did these days.
 

That was a worry for another time. He had plenty to worry about here and now, namely the other broken twig.

The other three victims had been smaller than this last. Their injuries had been more dramatic, harder to read clearly. Not so the big man. He had parallel slashes on his left side, like something made by a long-fingered, sharp-clawed animal. That made sense. What bothered Padre was the matching set on his other side.

Padre could picture a few situations that would lead to those injuries in a fight with Gideon, but the rest of the evidence didn't support a one of them. Those injuries just didn't track.

"You ready?" Elias asked. He stepped over the broken leg of the cheap coffee table—MDF, no match for the splinters—and squatted on the body's other side.

Filing away the broken twigs for now, Padre nodded and took the near side. On "three" they lifted the last body and carried it to the small back room where they dropped it through the hole they'd exposed by ripping aside the toilet.
 

This shack was a relatively new structure. Definitely not the first building to grace this lot. Whoever had built it had taken a common shortcut. They'd used an existing sub-level from the old structure to catch the waste of the new. Too few low-cost contractors would spend the money on a septic system or sewer tie-in when they could pocket that money by funneling waste straight into what used to be sub-street parking.

Padre and Elias weren't complaining. It made their cleanup work that much easier.
 

While Elias muscled the toilet back into the room, Padre took two small cylinders from his pack, cracked them, and dropped them into the hole. Once he saw the reaction start up, he helped Elias wrestle the toilet back into place.

"Good enough," Elias said softly, not sounding pleased in any way. He clicked his com as he headed back into the main room to weave his way to the door. "Mos, we're heading out."

"Clear. Come on," Mos's deep voice came over Padre's com.
 

He took one last look around the shambles as he followed Elias to the door. Then he stepped outside and tried to put the scene out of his mind to focus on his surroundings.

"Gotta tell you," Mos said, stepping around the makeshift porch to meet them. "I didn't envy you boys. That was one helluva mess."

Elias just nodded. Padre didn't respond. He focused instead on looking over the lot and the street beyond for any sign of patrols or watchers. Mos had been keeping watch, but that didn't stop Padre from double checking.

"Hell, there's blood all the way out here," Mos went on.

Padre brought his gaze back to Mos, then cut a glance back at the wall of the shack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elias do the same.
 

"Show me," Padre said.

Mos didn't hesitate or take offense at what sounded like a command from his subordinate. They kept the rank structure they'd all known in their various militaries, but like any good spec ops unit, they knew when to defer to expertise.

As Padre followed Mos's direction and squatted over the darker patch on the ground, Elias said, "Must be from Gideon as he left."

Padre tended to agree. It made sense. Which is exactly why he needed to check it. After another glance up at the street, he switched on the flashlight tinted to protect his night vision.
 

He studied the blood, which it was, in small but regular patches heading away from the shack. Then he took a close look at the tracks accompanying the trail across the soft dirt and thick clumps of dark grass.

Clicking off the light, he quietly drew the suppressed pistol from under his jacket.

"We have a problem."
 

Nikki

"What do you mean, you knew?"
 

Gideon's eyes, alien and human alike, narrowed with confusion, but Nikki didn't care. She wasn't talking to him anymore. When he started to speak, she held up her hand and snapped, "Don't."

I knew, Nikki.
 

Yeah, got that part,
she answered in her head.
Skip to the part where you explain.

When I asked Gideon to heal Kate, I knew what that would mean,
Michael responded, his tone almost apologetic.
I knew I wouldn't be able to take down the Hunter after that. Nikki, I knew what I was walking into.

She couldn't stare down her brother, so Gideon got the honors. To his credit, he didn't seem shaken. What she'd taken for confusion in his mismatched eyes was starting to look a lot like suspicion.
 

"I knew one of you would die—" he started.

She changed the raised hand to a single pointed finger, silencing him again.

I don't regret that decision, Nikki,
Michael said, his voice taking the short step from apologetic to defensive.
And if I had to do it again, I'd make the same call. I wouldn't change what I did.

"That makes one of us," she growled.

Gideon's mouth tightened and he bowed his head. She could feel Michael settling into a stubborn silence, so she didn't stop Gideon when he spoke this time.

"Since that day I've questioned my decision to conceal what little I knew of your destiny." He looked away into the darkness. "I've questioned many decisions, but concealing your future most of all."

"And exactly what do you know about my future?"

He didn't answer for a minute. He took the time to stare off into one of the dark corners some more, then to sit, easing himself down like he was an old timer, not at all like he'd stopped aging in his late thirties, some fifty-odd years ago.

"Two years ago I went to the other side," he gestured toward the chains, "searching for a way to stop Savior. I found you." He looked up at her again. "I found you and Michael, and two intertwined destinies I could not unravel."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Michael shushed her in her head. He actually shushed her.
 

Are you kidding me right now?
she thought back, but he didn't respond. He was too caught up in Gideon's words.
 

"I saw that one of you would make Savior stronger than ever," Gideon went on, "and the other would destroy him. But it wasn't until after your capture that I discovered which destiny belonged to whom."

She felt a surge of what felt disturbingly like happiness, or relief maybe. Usually she could tell one from the other, but since neither made sense right now, she doubted them both. This emotion sharing was quite possibly the second-worst thing that had ever happened to her.

What's wrong with you?
she thought at Michael.
Why are you so pleased all of a sudden?

Because.
He actually stopped for what would have been a smile if he'd had a body.
He's saying I died for a reason, for some greater purpose.
If he'd been in front of her, she wouldn't have been surprised to see tears of joy, considering how pleased with the world he sounded.

When I went to face the Hunter, I knew I couldn't win, but I didn't know why Gideon wanted that. When I realized he wanted me to fall, I knew it had to be because of something he'd seen of the future, but until now I—

"When you realized
what
?"

She felt a spike of concern, not her own, then Michael started to backpedal. He was the one at a loss for words now, stumbling over himself in a futile attempt to catch the cat and stuff it back in the bag, only this cat was a cheetah, and it was already halfway across the plain on its way toward Gideon's face.

Her punch snapped Gideon's head to the side. He reeled back, then slumped forward off the cot and down to one knee on the concrete before he caught himself.

She wanted to keep swinging, but she held herself back. He couldn't know what she and Michael were saying, so he didn't know why she'd hit him. She wanted him to know why when the next one landed. She wanted him to look her in the eye and say it.

"You sent him out there to die," she said as evenly as her pounding heart allowed. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," he breathed, his head slumped to stare at the drop of blood that had fallen from his lip. "I sent him to his death."

He looked up into her eyes. "No words can express my sorrow for what I have taken from you, from Michael, and from the world."

She wanted to hit him again. She knew she wanted it, even if her screwed up emotions couldn't make up their minds. But she couldn't see him to take aim thanks to the crappy light, and the tears that wouldn't stop filling her eyes every time she wiped them away. She clenched her fists so hard she thought her skin would split, but the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks were replaced as soon as they fell.

What did he mean by that?
Michael said softly.

That he's sorry
, she thought back, angrily scrubbing her sleeve across her eyes.
Why won't they stop coming?

Nikki, I'm sorry, but—ask him what he meant by, "from the world."

Give me a damn minute here.

Please,
he said softly but with no less urgency.

Fine.
"What do you mean, 'the world?'"

Gideon wiped at the blood on his lips, but he didn't look away from her.

"I was wrong," he said simply. Then he closed his eyes. "I was convinced you were the one who would destroy Savior, so I made a choice, and now the world will pay for it."

He must have interpreted the look on her face as confusion because he kept explaining. She didn't know what her face looked like because she no longer cared. All she could feel was Michael's blissful sense of peace dissolving and her rage taking over.

"I thought you were destined to destroy Savior," he went on, oblivious to his imminent danger. "But I was wrong. You had already made Savior more powerful than ever. You've fulfilled your destiny, which means I let your brother die for—"