Tormented (19 page)

Gusts of wind slapped me in the cheeks in less than a playful manner, causing me to flush with irritation. My eyes were burning as I lowered my head against the wind, passing Apollonia’s cabin and noting the “Closed” sign out front. I thought about knocking and asking for a ride, but I didn’t see a car anywhere nearby, just a bike chained up out front, as though someone was going to come along and steal it.

I quick-stepped my way out to the road and looked left, then right. I was at least still faster than a normal person, so I could jog my way into town fairly quickly if I were of a mind to. The wind reared up again, blowing and swirling around me and forcing me to lean into it, so I quickly decided that sacrificing sure footing in order to run was a bad idea, especially now that I was as subject to gravity as everyone else. How annoying. I’m not sure how you people do it, honestly.

I turned toward town and started to walk fast. The cold air lashed at my face and found the thinness of my jacket, probably laughing its evil, frigid little head off at how ill-prepared for its relentless press I was. “I should move to Texas,” I muttered. “Or Florida.”

A car’s lights appeared in the distance, churning slowly toward me. I moved to the side of the road, hitting a very slight rut and turning my ankle a little in the process. Just enough to sting. I cursed, then adjusted myself as I stood there in the subtle ditch that the snow had covered over. The car rolled past at about five miles an hour, giving me plenty of time to stare at the gawking, red face of a man who clearly didn’t expect to see anyone out in this mess. He kept going, though, not so much as bothering to stop and ask me if I needed a ride. Which was fine, because I didn’t need his stupid help anyway, the jerk.

I leaned back into the wind as it shifted direction to oppose me. It was like this whole island was hating on me, which was a familiar sensation by this point. Why should this place be any different than the rest of the world, after all? But much like them, I was determined to soldier on purely out of ornery spite.

The snow deepened as I went, going from barely an inch of accumulation in drifts to two inches, and it happened fast. I looked up at the darkened skies above me; grey light was barely visible shining down, and I could see a lamp lit somewhere far in the distance. The snows were thickening, increasing in size of flakes and volume.

If I had my fire powers right now, I would have turned this whole island to melted slush, dammit.

Melted flakes dripped down my jacket, seeping into the worn brown leather. I swiped ineffectually at my shoulders with fingers that were beginning to lose feeling. Which was weird, because it had only been snowing for a little while. How could the temperature have dropped steeply enough for me to already start to lose feeling in my fingers? Probably the wind.

Or some dickhead playing a trick on my mind.

“Oh, you’re hilarious,” I said under my breath. Every time I inhaled, my nose was assaulted with frigid chill, far harsher than what Brant and I had experienced on our walk earlier. That had been a little brisk, like one would expect late fall to be. This … this was getting to be January-type crap. Way out of season.

I pulled my left hand up and looked at my palm. The blood was still running there, seemingly unaffected by the cold that was freezing everything else. It wasn’t gushing or anything, just streaming lightly.

Part of me wanted to ask what else could go wrong, but I wasn’t stupid enough to fall prey to that temptation. I knew for a fact that if I did, I’d find out in mere moments, and it would be something that sucked, a lot.

The world closed in around me, the visibility clamping in tight as a particularly harsh gust kicked up snow from the ground. The drifts were getting higher still, and I was beginning to wonder if this was that much-vaunted “lake effect” snow I’d always heard about. If so, I really pitied the people who lived on this natural wonder. My next vacation was going to be in the middle of civilization, dammit, where I could order a pizza at any time. Maybe someplace where they didn’t know me, like Barcelona. No one would think to look for me in Barcelona. I could dress like a tourist and people would ignore my pale, pasty ass. Not that I would show my ass, at least not in a literal sense.

My eyes started to tear up, and it wasn’t from the emotion of planning my next vacation. They were burning like hell from the ever-intensifying winds. Was it possible to have a freezing hurricane on an island in the middle of Lake Superior? Because that was what this felt like. Either that, or my brother had decided to give up his day job and start importing cold from the north pole just to torment me into feeling guilty about the long list of wrongs that he perceived I gave no damns about.

I rubbed my freezing hands against the slick sleeves of my jacket, inadvertently rubbing blood on the left one, like I was preparing myself for sacrifice or something. I sighed when I saw it, sending another cloud of warm breath steaming out into a damnably cold world.

I started to stomp my feet as I walked, drawing my eyelids closer together and peering out through narrowed slits. It was getting harder to see, even absent my current squint, and it was then that I realized—

Oh, shit.

I looked down and there was not one trace of the road remaining. The trees that had lined either side were gone, the visibility so poor that I couldn’t see more than twenty feet in any direction. The only good news was that I hadn’t wandered off in the middle of a forest … had I?

I had the presence of mind to keep my body pointed in the same direction, which I both hoped and presumed was right, and took an opportunity to look left and right as best I could, trying to see any sign that I was on the right path.

There was none.

I was lost, completely and utterly.

The paramedics helped me by delivering Augustus directly to the infirmary on the agency’s campus, and I followed behind their ambulance with its wailing sirens, never once having to press Baby’s accelerator too hard to manage it. I kept my lights flashing the whole time so that anyone I passed knew that I wasn’t just ambulance chasing or coasting behind like some asshole.

I’d stayed long enough at the scene of Cunningham’s outburst and Anselmo’s appearance to rule out the possibility that they were there. So, the good news was that no one else got hurt in that one, other than the co-worker that Cunningham had burned to death in a fit of … well, I don’t know what kind of fit it was. It was spaztacular, though.

The bad news was that J.J. had already mustered up a lone camera image showing Cunningham and Anselmo fleeing the scene together before he lost their trail … again. That was what we in the industry called a bad day. Actually, pretty much anyone with half a brain would call that a bad day.

As we pulled into campus driveway, the ambulance finally killed the sirens and I took the lead. I drove my Challenger right up to the rear entrance to headquarters where I caught a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-haired woman standing there waiting, white coat fluttering in the wind.

Any look of concern she might have had evaporated the moment the ambulance doors opened, but she couldn’t hide it from me. Isabella was an enigma to a lot of people, but I knew her better than anyone. She was a tempest, a beautiful and furious storm that destroyed all but the unprepared.

Me, though? I had experience with high winds.

“Careful,” she said, probably unnecessarily, to the paramedics as they brought Augustus out of the ambulance on a gurney. His neck was immobilized with one of those white cervical collars, and he was strapped down. The legs of the gurney deployed as they brought it down to the sidewalk.

“We’ve got this,” I told them as I stepped up to the side to wheel Augustus into the building. Isabella took up position on the other side, directly opposite me, face inscrutable. The sun was shining overhead, and a gentle breeze rustled over us, disturbing the thin sheet that covered Augustus’s body. I could tell the paramedic had cut his clothes off already. He didn’t look too upset, though, so I assumed he was already over it.

As we approached the back entrance to headquarters, Isabella smacked the automatic open button for the double doors with a little more violence than she needed to. I could tell by the way she did it that I was probably going to be getting an earful of something in the next few minutes, and it wasn’t going to be anything good, like sweet nothings. She waited until we were all the way into the medical unit before she cut loose. “Did I hear you right before? It was Anselmo?”

“It was Anselmo,” I said as we slid the gurney in place under the big light in the center of the medical unit. I lifted Augustus’s backboard and him in one good heave (“Whoa!” he said) and settled him down on the table. “He’s been dogging my steps the last couple days. J.J. says he’s getting help from the brains behind the January attack.”

“I don’t like this,” Isabella said, shaking her head as she leaned over to examine Augustus. “Your sister should be here to deal with him.”

“Phillips suspended her for a reason—” I started.

“A good one, no doubt,” Isabella said.

“A stupid one,” Augustus said at the same time. Their eyes met and then they both looked away from each other abruptly, both more than a little sullen.

“I doubt he’s going to allow her back for anything short of the apocalypse,” I said, finishing my thought.

“So you are forced to deal with an invincible man all on your own?” she asked. “That is insane.”

“Hey, he wasn’t on his own,” Augustus said in protest.

“But he is now,” Isabella said, standing up straight, her lab coat rustling as she did. “You are out of action for a week to heal. You will probably be mostly healed by end of day tomorrow, but if you agitate your injury it could be longer. Healing spinal injuries as a meta is tricky business; misalignments add considerable time to the process.”

“Great,” Augustus grumbled. “Can I at least go to class during recovery?”

Isabella gave him a severe look. “In three days, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s the weekend,” Augustus said, and if he could have, I think he would have thrown up his arms in exasperation. “Doesn’t do much good.”

“Find that cute girl on Monday,” I said, “get her notes.”

“I’m missing more than one class,” Augustus said irritably.

“There are a lot of cute girls on that campus,” I said, smiling. I caught a very closed-off look from Isabella and stopped immediately. You know that look. The one that throws into question whether you’ll ever get laid again. “I assume. I wouldn’t actually know myself, having never been to that campus, or ever really laid eyes on a cute girl other than this one doctor I know who—”

“Stop groveling,” Isabella said.

“Yeah, it’s really pitiful, watching you do that,” Augustus said. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Hush, you,” Isabella said.

“Why?” Augustus asked seriously. “Is it bad for my back?”

“Merely your health,” she said, “if you continue to interrupt the conversation of the grown-ups.”

“Burn,” I said, watching his face fall. “Anyway, I don’t think Sienna’s coming back for this.” A little rumbled persisted in my belly. “I haven’t heard from her yet, in any case.” I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

“You are calling her now?” Isabella asked, watching me all the while.

“Not exactly,” I said as the line picked up. “J.J.!”

“Yo yo yo,” J.J. said. “Reed, my man … you know how to bring forth the chaos, bro. You’re the Loki around here.”

“I think he’s mischief, not chaos,” I said.

“Didn’t Sienna kill him?” J.J. asked, musing aloud.

“Probably,” I said, “her body count is both prodigious and far-reaching.” I caught a glare from Augustus at that and mouthed an
I’m sorry
in mildest contrition. “Dude, have you gotten any word on her whereabouts yet?”

“Ummm,” J.J. said, “not really. I left messages—like I’m a secretary or something—but I haven’t heard anything back from the cabin rental office or the island’s law enforcement yet. It’s like they keep bankers' hours, if bankers didn’t come in until noon.” He lowered his voice. “Also, Phillips is helicopter parenting me at the moment.”

“What?” I asked.

“He’s like … hovering, man,” J.J. said. “All over the top floor, constantly this morning, asking for updates.”

“Updates on what?” I asked, frowning unintentionally at Isabella, who gave me a quizzical look in reply.

“Oh, I don’t know,” J.J. said, voice growing in vehemence as he went, “maybe that giant cluster-flummox you had up in Anoka County this morning.”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t —” I paused. “Wait, that was in Anoka County?”

“Dude, you have stepped in the poop landmine once again, you have stuck your head into the bear’s mouth, choose your metaphor for the crap you have unleashed upon us, the poor servants of this agency,” J.J. said. “Whichever you pick, know that it has rolled downhill unto us, the lowly, and that we—”

“Are really delivering this in an overwrought kind of way,” I said, taking the steam right out of him. “What’s Phillips up your tailpipe about?”

“How about the newly formed alliance of Mr. Flames and Mr. Invincible?” J.J. asked. “And the fact that we can’t get a decent idea of where they’re heading at any given moment in time? And that I’m being perpetually hampered in all my efforts to follow them because someone with a big brain is totally blocking me with her—”

“What about Harper?” I asked. “Doesn’t she have a drone in the air?”

“She does!” J.J. said with mock enthusiasm. “And you know what she’s been able to do with it? Nothing. And I know this because Phillips is bouncing back and forth between her station and mine like a ping pong ball that … uhhhh …” His tonality changed abruptly. “Yeah, we should totally get together to play Pong later.” He covered the receiver of the phone, muffling himself slightly. “It’s Reed.”

I heard the phone yanked out of his hand. “This is Phillips,” came the boss’s voice, utterly bereft of good humor.

“No, this is Reed,” I said, smarting off completely inappropriately. I never would have done that a couple days ago. What the hell was happening to me?