Shadow Train (31 page)

Her eyes lit with joy, she said, “And I love you, Zhai. Of course I'll come back to you, if there's any way I can.”

“If you guys could wait—let me get this thing with Rick over with—then I could go with you,” he suggested, but Kate shook her head.

“No. Miss Lily Rose is right. Bringing Aimee's mom back is a task best left to us women.”

Zhai nodded. “Yeah—I get it. More Middleburg mystery. Just promise me you'll be careful.”

“You too. Come back to me safe,” she said, and drew him close for another kiss. And he knew that would have to be enough for now. They both had their paths to walk.

* * *

An hour later, Aimee, Maggie, Kate, Anne Pembrook, and Dalton stood reverently in a circle in Lily Rose's living room, holding hands. Lily Rose and Master Chin held hands, their arms around the girls, forming a circle within a circle.

“You know I'm sending good wishes along with you,” Lily Rose said. “Just be careful and keep a sharp lookout. We don't know who or what sent your mother back in time, and if you get there and it's too dangerous, you come right on back and we'll make another plan, you hear?”

They murmured their assent, and Aimee thought Lily Rose had a lot more confidence in them than they had in themselves. Her heart was beating so hard she felt like it might explode. But it didn't matter. She had three pieces of the crystal ring—hers, Dalton's, and Miss Pembrook's. She wouldn't let anything stop her.

“Okay, everybody. Ready?” Aimee said, and Miss Pembrook and the girls all nodded and closed their eyes.

Aimee felt for the three shards in her pocket, making sure they were still there. Then, as they stood in a circle holding hands, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and focused on her mother's face, and on the Wheel of Illusion inside the tunnel. And suddenly they were falling, gliding, slipping through space.

Chapter 21

Zhai was tromping through the woods
at the foot of the tunnel mound, the mountain that contained Middleburg's abandoned rail tunnels. He was to meet Rick outside the north tunnel—which meant hiking through a few miles of thick woods with only the faintest hint of a trail to ease the journey. As he pushed his way through the underbrush, he focused on the battle ahead, clearing his mind of all else.

Rick would be more filled with rage than ever; that was certain. His father had married Savana Kain this morning, and Rick had made it no secret that their union disgusted him. He hated everyone from the Flats, and the Kain family especially. Rage would make him strong, but it might make him reckless, too. How would a fury-blinded Rick attack? With a flurry of overhead punches? Zhai could block them with pair of
Biu Saus
and give him a stomp kick to the knee to halt his charge, then follow up with a kick to his gut. But what if he came in gunning for a takedown? Zhai would be ready for it and catch him with a knee to the chin as he came in.

And if he hurt Zhai, really hurt him in that first attack? Then Zhai would use Shen. He was hesitant to use the power of the All—and he wasn't sure he could use it on someone who had been his friend as long as Rick had. But if all else failed, that's what he would do. He could already feel the energy building in his lower abdomen, rising up through his chest and into his limbs, bristling into his forehead, like a tree made of crackling, fizzing electricity.

Ahead, an orange light shone through the trees, and Zhai slowed his advance, creeping forward like a commando sneaking up on an enemy encampment. When he got to the edge of the treeline, he saw that he'd reached his destination. The Toppers had built a bonfire in the center of the tracks. Rick was standing in front of it, his hands on his hips, gazing into the flames. He looked dirty and disheveled, as if he'd already been in a fight and his expression seemed kind of vague and dreamy. Somehow, he seemed bigger than usual. The other Toppers were gathered around, too. Cle'von and D'von sat on opposite rails, talking, while Dax and Michael, sitting on the stone railroad bed, glanced uneasily out into the darkness that surrounded them. Zhai spotted Bran a moment later. His shadowy shape moved back and forth on the far side of the fire, as if he were pacing in agitation.

Apparently, the Flatliners hadn't shown up yet, which was good. Zhai was hoping he could defeat Rick before they arrived—because he was sure that if Rick ended up fighting Josh, the Flatliner didn't stand a chance.

So far, none of the Toppers had seen Zhai. Closing his eyes, he took a slow step back, allowing himself to slip once more into the cool embrace of a meditative state. No thoughts of kung fu moves or battle tactics disturbed his serenity now. It was just him and the faint sound of insects newly born and freed from the bonds of winter's frost, the rustle of trees in the wind, and the warm glimmer of firelight that painted shapes on the back of his closed eyelids.

Something bad was about to happen, he now understood, because nothing good could come from the animosity that had built up over the preceding months. The gangs had abandoned the Wu-de, and there was nothing leading them forward now but fury, loathing, fear, and disgust. It was like a farmer planting a crop of thorn bushes—one could not expect to reap a harvest of corn from them, only a harvest of blood. That's what Rick wanted, and it's exactly what he would get tonight.

But the thought did not exactly fill Zhai with terror, as it should have. What he felt was a sense of inevitability, like a person who's slipped off the edge of a cliff might feel as he plummets toward the ground. All Zhai could do was accept what was happening and step into the firelight.

Rick spotted him and shouted when he was still twenty yards away. “Here he comes, boys. Get ready to see a show,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

Zhai climbed up onto the tracks and stood in the center of them, as still as the trees around them, silent wooden witnesses.

“All right, Rick. You've wanted this for a long time,” Zhai said. “Come and get it.” He assumed a ready position.

Rick grinned, his features distorted by the firelight. With a laugh of wicked pleasure, he walked forward. Zhai was watching his elbows for the first sign of an attack when a sound broke the stillness of the clearing. It was the beating of footsteps on railroad ties—not just one set, but several. Zhai tried to ignore it, to remain focused on the enemy, but Rick was already looking over his shoulder, peering down the tracks.

“RICK!” a voice rang out in the darkness, and Zhai could no longer refrain from turning around to see who was coming.

It was the Flatliners—or what was left of them. Nass, Beet, Benji, and Josh sprinted toward them up the tracks with Josh in the lead, and Zhai could see that his eyes held a wild look that seemed like the first spark of insanity.

“Josh!” Nass yelled. “Josh, don't!”

Zhai moved off the tracks to let the newcomers pass, and as he did he was able to see more clearly. Josh was charging at Rick.

Nass grabbed the back of Josh's sweatshirt as if trying to pull him back, but Josh ripped free and continued toward Rick, who actually retreated a step or two.

Now, Zhai understood. Nass and the other Flatliners, who he had thought were attacking with Josh, were actually trying to stop him. That's when he caught sight of the gun in Josh's hand.

* * *

All was eerily silent as Orias stalked Middleburg's darkened streets, moving in and out of the shadows carved by massive, ancient Oak trees and the yellow-white gleam of the sporadic streetlights. Sometimes he moved along the pavement on long, jerky strides, sometimes he drifted above it for several yards before settling back to the earth. His thoughts were like a team of horses that had broken free from their tackle and now stampeded through his mind, with no order or reason to their motion.

Half an hour before, he had packed his bags and loaded them into his car, but when he reached for the car's ignition button, he had stopped, unable to press it. Everything he had, everything he'd built in Middleburg was slipping away from him and the choices that lay before him were impossible. Could he run away and abandon everything he'd come to love—especially Aimee? No. Could he free Oberon and face his wrath? Or refuse to free him and face Azaziel's reprisal? No. None of the choices before him were acceptable.

Agitated, he'd gotten out of the car, intent on taking a walk to clear his mind. Now, he glanced at his watch. Time was ticking down to the deadline Azaziel had given him—only a few more hours to go.

The bizarre truth was that Aimee's defection bothered him most of all. He should be happy to be rid of her. She should have been nothing more to him than an amusing little pet, and here he was deluding himself that he was in love with her. Only he knew it wasn't a delusion. He would give his soul for her if he had one. But love made him weak, and she was his Achilles' heel.

Orias knew that his enemies—his father and Azaziel—would abduct, torture, and kill her if they thought it would bring him pain. All this time, he had told himself that Aimee might still be useful because of her abilities, and because she had some special role to play in Middleburg's fate, and that was why he kept her around. But now that she was gone, now that he felt her loss like a gaping wound in his chest, there was no denying the truth. He'd kept her around because he loved her. An existence without her would be meaningless—and time was growing short. He glanced at his watch again.

He couldn't possibly stand against Azaziel, with all the power—and all the soldiers—of the Irin Council behind him. Orias's only option was to run. Fallen angels were incredibly intelligent, but they were neither psychic nor omnipotent. He had business interests and money put away in a network of other countries, so hiding out for a while in luxurious but secluded accommodations would be no problem. He'd spent most of the afternoon and evening working intently to get the device ready and put it in place. Even Oberon, locked away in the tower, was quiet as if listening, as if trying to figure out what he was up to. Now all was done. The bomb was in place. The timer was set. But Orias could not leave without Aimee. He had to find her, and he had to find her soon.

* * *

Nass watched helplessly as, just a few steps in front of him, Josh charged at Rick with the gun clasped in his clenched fist. Josh gave an earsplitting battle cry and took aim. Rick didn't even flinch, and Nass wondered if, in the dark, he could see the pistol that was coming ever closer to him. Instead of running the other way, Rick charged straight toward Josh, as if he would face down the bullet by sheer force of will.

“This is for Emory!” Josh screamed, and he stopped and set his feet to better his aim. As he slowed, Nass caught him from behind and Rick sandwiched him from the front. Zhai, off to one side, yelled one word: “No!”

Suddenly Nass was blasted sideways with the giddy-painful sizzle of a Shen energy discharge. He recognized the feeling from his sparring with Raphael, but the sound it made wasn't the normal bang of a Shen explosion—it was the sharp crack of a gunshot. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his side in the ditch that ran parallel to the track bed with his feet higher up the embankment than his body. The rush of blood to his head left him momentarily dizzy. It took him a moment to realize that the thick, sticky liquid he felt was blood, and then another moment to find its source. There was a sickening feeling in his stomach as he thought he might have been shot. Wincing with pain, he rolled onto his back and sat up.

I moved to this damn town to get away from gang violence,
he thought.
Look at me now!

But after a moment he discovered he had banged his head on a jagged chunk of concrete during the fall. The blood was from a small gash on the side of his head. He hadn't been shot at all.

Above, up the hill, he heard the sounds of a fight: shouting, grunting, and cursing. Wincing again, he rose and stumbled up the embankment.

Josh and Rick had clambered to their feet, too. Nass didn't see the gun and hoped that it been lost in Zhai's Shen attack, but Josh and Rick were trying their best to kill each other without it. They were fighting with everything they had. The rest of the guys, Nass included, looked on, paralyzed, too weary or scared to take any action to stop what was unfolding.

Josh put up a good fight, bloodying Rick's nose and ripping his expensive T-shirt, until Rick got him in a clench like the MMA star Anderson Silva, and began cracking him in the head with a series of elbows, punctuated by the occasional knee to his face.

“That's enough, Rick,” Zhai was saying, but Rick ignored him. He seemed to be lost in a haze of bloodlust. The grin on his face was like the serene, satisfied smile of a Buddha under a Bodhi tree.

“You asked for it, you got it, Flats rat,” Rick said, landing another vicious blow with a sickening thud.

Beet charged forward. “Back off, Rick,” he snarled, ready to jump into the mix, but Michael stepped in front of him.

“Let them go. It's a fair fight,” he said, and Beet shoved him.

Behind them, Rick landed another savage punch to Josh's temple, and he crumpled to the ground. Rick towered over him, and as Nass and the others watched, he seemed to grow even larger. His face twisted into a beastly grimace, and his thick, powerful hands warped into claws. He was becoming a monster.

Nass didn't understand what this transformation meant exactly, but the knowing told him that it wasn't something new. It was the completion of a process that had begun a long time ago, the completion of what Rick was, and not so much a transformation as a blossoming. Whatever it was, Rick was a monster, a savage beast who was about to kill another of Nass's friends, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

With a deft capoeira move, Nass cartwheeled around Beet and Michael, who were grappling with one another, and shot in between Rick and Josh, surprising Rick and felling him with a quick leg sweep. Only a second passed before Rick was on his feet again, charging Nass like the bull that he now sort of resembled.

Nass caught him in the face with a cartwheel that transitioned into a kick, and managed to spin out of the way of two of Rick's haymaker punches. The third caught Nass square in the side. It was like getting slammed in the ribs with a sledgehammer, and Nass felt his legs go to jelly beneath him.

Somehow he stayed on his feet and he parried Rick's next two jabs with the
Pak Sau
move Raphael had taught him. He even managed to land a couple of glancing punches, one striking Rick's rock-hard stomach and the other banging off his steely forehead.

Benji jumped on Rick's back, but Rick grabbed him with one hand and chucked him off easily.

“Rick—my turn!” Zhai shouted, but Rick ignored him and continued advancing on Nass.

Nass cartwheeled out of the way of two overhead rights and landed a kick to the knee that almost buckled Rick's tree-trunk of a leg, but when Rick caught him with an overhead right, Nass's world went dark.