The Fallen (22 page)

“Your mom should totally let you work at Pateena's.”

“Tell
me about it,” Amy said, kicking a rock. She kicked it again with her other foot and then really got into it, kicking it back and forth like a soccer ball before accidentally shooting it twenty feet or so ahead. She ran after it, puffy coat flying. Chloe laughed.

“Tuesday was our anniversary,” Paul said.

“Yeah?”

“She made me a card. And wrote me a poem,” he
added cryptically, no expression on his face. Chloe studied him for a moment before smiling.

“At least she didn't perform it in front of a crowd,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” was all he said, with a heavily relieved sigh.

They caught up to Amy at the midpoint. She was already leaning over, spitting.

“I've told you that's a
myth”
Paul said, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation.

“No, it's not,” Chloe argued, leaning over and spitting herself. “If you get it just right with the wind—it really
does
fly back up.”

“You two are disgusting,” he said, turning around with his back to the rail. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and cupped his hand against the wind to light it. Red sunlight lit his face from below as if he was in front of a fire.

Unfortunately, when the wind blew the other way, the smoke completely overpowered her newly heightened sense of smell. She turned her head into the wind, trying not to gag.

“You gonna jump off
this
rail?” Amy asked, jerking her thumb at it.

Chloe smiled. “No, I don't think so. The boys in green over there wouldn't like it too much.”

“Hey, I got it!” Paul suddenly said, holding his arms out like he was literally hit by an idea. “You're
supposed
to be dead! From the fall. And now, like in those Final Destination movies, death is doing everything it can to
reclaim you! That
totally
explains the homeless guy and that guy who tried to kill you.”

“Urn,
thanks
for that heartening interpretation,” Chloe said, “but if that were true, it wouldn't just be people after me—random things, like cars and—well, this
bridge
would collapse and try to do me in.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Paul took a step or two backward, looking at the ground.

“Anyway, like I said, it's a little more complicated than that.”

“What were you
doing
walking by yourself at night, anyway?
Twice?”
Amy demanded, kicking the little rock between her feet and moving on across to the other side.

The three continued moseying along the bridge, long black shadows behind them. There were a few other people enjoying the sunset, and occasionally a cyclist would go whizzing by. Ahead of them the bridge was empty; they had it all to themselves, like the end of a movie. This was it. This was the moment. Here was where she decided how much to tell them.

Chloe took a deep breath.

A figure stepped out in front of them from the car side, blocking their path.

“Urn, guys, you the know the weirdo with the blades—
not
the bum?”

“Yeah?” Patii and Amy asked; they were holding hands.

“That's him.” She pointed.

The Rogue stood his ground and smiled.

“Chloe King”

He held a dagger in each hand and wore no jacket tonight, just a black turdeneck that looked it was made of neoprene—or was hiding armor underneath.
Just the sort of thing Brian would wear,
Chloe noted distractedly. The pants and boots were the same as the other night; she could see his thick blond hair held back in a ponytail that just ended at the bottom of his neck.

“Hey,” Paul yelled, thinking fast. “HEY!” he yelled, cupping his hands in the direction of the National Guard. But his words died in the wind.

“You think your human friends are going to help save you?” the man asked with feigned surprise. “Just because you keep company with them doesn't mean you're one of them.”

“Ho-ly shit,” Amy said, openmouthed.

“Um,
yeah
…” Chloe estimated the distance between
them—about twenty-five feet. Good enough for a head start?
What about Paul and Amy?

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Chloe shouted back.

“They don't know your
true nature?”
the man asked, eyes widening.

“Do we all run in different directions?” Amy whispered, beginning to get really scared. “Or what?”

“They
should”
He walked forward slowly, looking Amy and Paid each in the eye, back and forth, like a cobra deciding where to strike first. “She's not really your friend. She isn't even your kind.
Our
kind,” the man said, desperate to make them understand. “Her people want nothing less than the complete destruction of humanity. To rule the world. To defy God Himself.”

“Chloe…?” Paul asked. He wasn't referring to the killer's speech; like Amy, he was wondering what they should do. Without thinking or talking about it, the three of them began to back away slowly, at the same pace at which the man advanced.

“Run,” Chloe hissed. “Run
nozoi”

Paul and Amy ran.

The Rogue laughed, turning to watch her friends go. “How sweet—are you protecting them? Or protecting the truth about yourself.”

Chloe sensed this was it. And she was right: by the time he looked back and threw his daggers, she had already dropped to all fours and leapt at him. She heard
the blades whoosh with deadly accuracy over her head; they would have been firmly buried in her stomach had she remained standing.

Two handsprings later she launched herself with a roar at his chest, not really thinking out her attack, just using momentum, movement, and surprise to gain the upper hand, if only for a second.

Just before her claws managed to sink into his flesh, he reached below her, grabbing and pushing, using her own weight to throw her over his head past him. She landed on the ground safely, not with a tuck and roll, but on all fours.

Flying daggers don't kill people,
Chloe thought, leaping sidewise at the last minute to avoid one, grabbing the pedestrian rail.
People kill people.

“It doesn't matter,” he shouted. “Even if you are the One, I have blades enough for all of you.”

What the hell does
that
mean? And more to the point, why doesn't he carry a gun like a normal psychopath?
Chloe swung around so she was standing on the rail and lighdy ran along it until she came to a slender blue lamppost. She leapt and clung to the sides, shimmying up it. A loud clank indicated a blade that must have just missed one of her feet, hitting the pole instead.

Chloe leapt to the next support without thinking, crossing ten feet of air right over his head. Shuriken whisded up into the sky behind her. She turned as if to leap back again, as if she were confused and frightened and not thinking.

At the last minute she dove right for him.

Finally
her claws made contact with his flesh, skimming over some of the Kevlar or whatever he wore, sinking in where it ended. They struggled closely for a moment, landing together on the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Chloe concentrated on just digging in wherever her claws could reach and keeping her legs moving, hopefully doing some damage near his crotch. He tried to lock his own legs around her; they were very strong, almost stony with muscle. Just before her strength gave out, Chloe leapt away again. As soon as she was up, she turned around to face him, ready for his next attack.

There was a deadly whir that just skimmed her ears, followed by a clang of metal on metal. A throwing star shot by her head and bounced off the stanchion just above the Rogue, who was already getting up. Chloe spun around.

Standing on the other side of the Rogue, about twenty feet away, was Brian. He had a pained look on his face and another throwing star in his hand.

Brian
…? Chloe had a hard time processing what she was seeing, but there was no mistaking the weapon he held.

Pain and despair and rage beat down on her. She knew she should concentrate on the fact that she had
two
attackers now, but Chloe was suddenly exhausted by this unexpected betrayal. So much made sense now…. The note came back to her:
Be wary of the company you keep.

He started walking toward her.

“Get
away
from me, you—;
freakl”
Chloe screamed. “You
were
stalking me. I can't believe how real it seemed…. Nothing we did meant… anything!”

“Chloe, no! I…”

There was a scraping noise behind her. Chloe panicked and spun around. Her assassin was already up and advancing on her. He saw Brian and smiled.

She was trapped in between them.

Chloe looked around wildly; her only escape was off the bridge. She started toward the rail.

“No!” Brian shouted. “Chloe!”

But someone leapt at Brian, arms wide and claws extended. Chloe got a glimpse of furious ice blue eyes and a shock of honey hair before the two tumbled into an angry, kicking struggle on the ground.

Alyec. Alyec was the other cat person. She had misread
all
of the clues about both of them. Somehow she should have known….

“I've got him,” Alyec yelled. “Get that motherfucker…!”

Chloe felt new strength within her.
This
was her partner; he had her back. Now it was up to her. She turned to face the Rogue.

His turdeneck was torn to shreds on the right half of his body; black tatters and blood flowed down his skin. There was a strange tattoo on his arm, but she couldn't quite make it out. Blood dripped from the comer of his
mouth, probably from his head hitting the ground. He wiped at it and spat out more.

She waited for him to say something profound, like in the movies, but instead he suddenly began throwing what seemed like dozens of throwing stars at her that appeared at his fingertips like roses from a magician's.

She danced and leapt and did handsprings and managed to avoid most of the shuriken.

“Another of my Order has come to watch and help with the cause!” He threw them harder and harder.

Chloe twisted and fell as a throwing star buried itself in her side.

“You thought he was your what—boyfriend? He was hunting you, just like I was.” He laughed.

As Chloe struggled to get up, he reached down to the side of his pants and pulled out something that was smaller than a machete but larger than his previous blades. The pain in her side was like fire; every time she moved, it felt like her body was ripping apart.

He began advancing on her.

The wind whisded in Chloe's hair. She watched him come at her slowly, pain masking sound and thought. She could vaguely hear Brian and Alyec shouting obscenities at each other and the occasional muffled thump as one of them landed a blow.

There really
was
a very good chance that if no one helped her, she was going to die.

And then something inside her snapped.

How dare you?

“How
dare
you!” she screamed. Chloe ripped the shuriken out of her side and threw it to the ground, wincing at the pain. “What the
hell
did I ever do to
you?
Or
anyone?
I didn't ask for
any
of this!”

And she ran at him, blind rage eclipsing the pain.

He swung his blade down, but she lunged to the side and swiped her hand against his arm, raking her claws down it. He cried out, forced to switch the knife to his left hand. Chloe hadn't finished moving, though. She spun and kicked him on the back of his neck with her toes, smashing the Kevlar collar into his flesh.

“Fuck you,” she screamed. “Get out of my
life!”

The hot, blind rage was cooling, replaced with something much more cold and logical. She saw clearly ahead of time every punch, kick, and swipe—and followed up with an immediate counterattack. She never gave him time to draw another blade.

He backed up slowly until he was up against the rail. “How—many—others—have—you—killed?” With each word, she sent another kick into his stomach.

At the last minute he managed to launch himself so he was over the rail, keeping it between them.

“You fucking psycho,” Chloe spat into his face.

Battered and bloody, he still managed a smile. “I do service for the Lord. His will be done.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the—”

And then he slipped.

Chloe was thrown off for a moment; this was something she hadn't expected.

“Chloe! Don't kill him!” Brian yelled. He tried to run over to stop her, but Alyec pulled him down to the ground again.

She leaned over, watching her assassin sway in the winds, struggling to hang on.

Finish him!
Every part of her wanted to step on his fingers, to claw his face, to watch and smile as he slowly lost strength, slipped, and fell.

He tried to kill you! He
hunted
you down, like you were prey!

Even the human side of her agreed: this was a psycho who was better off
not
in the collective gene pool.

Then she offered him her hand.

I can't. Fighting is one thing—I can't kill someone in cold blood.

“You. On the bridge. Step away from the rail.”

The electronically loud bullhorn noise made everyone spin. A helicopter rose up from below, aiming its spodight along the bridge.

Chloe looked up as well—

And the Rogue fell.

“No!” She Cried,
trying to grab after him. But there was only air.

“They're coming,” Brian said, to no one in particular.

Chloe was still leaning over the rail, looking at the water in shock and disbelief. She doubted that he would come back the way she had from her own fall. It was like a book had suddenly closed and she would never be able to open it and read it again—find out why he was filled with hate. Instead of relief she felt a lack of closure, even a little loss.