Blood Hunter Page 8

  In a month or two, it'll be snowing. Everyone will be wearing gloves. It won't be quite as obvious.

  "You're probably right. What time should I be here?" She would have to arrange a ride to the hospital with either Catherine or Thomas.

  "Before eight o'clock. We'll make sure your hospital credentials are all in order before we begin." McNamara looked at the door to the exam room as if he expected to be interrupted. "Once you work for the hospital, you'll have access to Jimmy's medical records. The police might also access his records as part of their investigation of his mother. It will be noted in the system that you are accessing his records. This could raise a few red flags for the Oversight Committee. If they question you, send them to me. Don't talk to them unless I'm with you."

  "What about Catherine?"

  He hesitated. "The Captain can protect you too, but remember, she's invested in making the Committee work. She has interests outside of protecting just you. Also, her commitment is to Thunder City. If there's a crisis that T-CASS must handle, they look to the Captain to lead them. Despite her extraordinary power, she can't be in two places at the same time and the Committee knows this. Johnson will exploit it."

  "How did a guy like that ever get on the Committee in the first place?"

  McNamara shrugged. "Men like him will always find a way to disrupt the order and use safety as an excuse to sow the seeds of chaos. It makes them feel in control when they truly have no control."

  Hannah didn't quite understand, but she knew what it felt like to be out of control. Her temper, her gloves, her power.

  McNamara placed a hand on her shoulder. "You'll find your control. Just start with the small things."

  It was as if he could read her mind. "Small things?"

  "If you go to the Captain now and tell her you need rest, she will stop talking with the administrators and take you home. When you get there, you decide what you would like to eat for dinner and say so. Call Scott first, don't wait for him. You decide when you go to bed tonight. Don't let the Captain decide for you. Small things."

  She could control the small things if she wanted to. "Okay. Small things. I can make that happen."

  "Good girl. I'll see you tomorrow in pathology. It'll be fine."

  He slid off the table and motioned her out of the room. Hannah followed, but her thoughts were far from the city. If she could find some control for tonight, maybe receiving the bodies at the harbor wouldn't seem so daunting.

  "Pull."

  Like one of Pavlov's dogs, Scott stared at the red beanbag at the end of the ping-pong table. Need versus want. In order to pull the beanbag, he had to need it, feel it in his hand. Hannah had taught him that. She'd also mussed up his hair, giving him a reason to want something and not his comb. Thinking about that moment made him want more, but not the beanbag. He didn't need the beanbag. What would happen if he didn't need it?

  Nothing, and he'd fail the test. Again.

  Serena Jakes, Highlight, stood off to the side in a forest green skirt and pale blouse instead of her usual bright-yellow Alt uniform. "I said, pull."

  He'd heard her just fine, the tone careful to convey the command without letting annoyance slip through.

  Scott focused on the beanbag. He imagined the rough fabric against his palm. He could use the bag to stuff down the throat of the Alt who'd challenged him on the roof of the hospital. Another distraction he didn't want or need, but the potent curiosity clicked in his brain.

  The beanbag disappeared and reappeared in his left hand.

  "Shinzo, did you get that?" Highlight called.

  Shinzo poked his head out from behind a screen where he operated a fancy, high-tech video camera. He wore the blue polo shirt and black slacks of Thomas's elite team. "I filmed it, but I won't know what we recorded until we analyze the video."

  "I'll leave the analysis to you." Jakes sounded much less frosty talking to Shinzo then she did to Scott.

  Scott tossed the beanbag back and forth between his hands, waiting for Jakes to turn back toward him.

  Instead, an alarm honked from her comm. The same happened from Shinzo's. Scott waited while both checked their messages.

  "We're done for the day." Jakes picked up her purse from the floor and headed for the door.

  "Wait!" Scott said.

  She turned, her brown eyes as cool as her voice. "Did you need something?"

  "How about some feedback?" He dangled the beanbag from his fingers.

  Highlight shrugged. "You're a smart man, Mr. Grey. Do the math. Ten successful pulls, twenty bags. You have a fifty percent failure rate and no pattern in regards to the size or weight of the bag. We'll do this again tomorrow and the day after until you can pull all twenty bags on command."

  She left without another word.

  Scott would have tossed the bag against the closed door, but Shinzo blocked him. "Sorry, Grey. I need to take the beanbag from you."

  Scott looked at the beanbag, then back at the door.

  Shinzo laughed. "Yeah, all the Goobs want to take a swing at her at least once during training. It's not just you."

  Scott doubted that, but then Shinzo had no reason to lie to him either. Instead, he tossed the beanbag at Shinzo so the tech could catch it. "What was the alarm about?"

  Shinzo caught the beanbag and dumped it into a container. "Ghost called in a red alert and requested backup."

  Nik. What the hell was his brother up to that would require backup? "Doesn't Thomas have better things for you to do than to clean up after a Goob during a red alert?"

  "Not this time." He must have seen the worry on Scott's face, because he put down the container to talk to Scott without the distraction. "I wouldn't worry about it. It happens all the time. If Thomas needed me, I'd have left with Highlight. If you want details, though, you should call Thomas."

  Scott considered it, but forced himself to dismiss it. Thomas would take the call, but Scott couldn't bring himself to interrupt his father in the middle of an operation. Scott wasn't T-CASS, but if he was he would know what was happening to his brother. Was this what it would be like for him if he stayed in Thunder City with Hannah but didn't join the family business of rescuing people? Always on the outside looking in and wondering if they were safe? Was this why Thomas had joined even though he had no Alt ability? So that he could keep an eye on his wife and stepsons, if not his actual son?

  Another wrinkle in his path to deciding where he fit into the fabric of Thunder City. In Star Haven, he and his partner Juan had always worked extra shifts during a disaster. He'd met Hannah after the Left Fist gang had captured him, beat him up, and shoved him out of a helicopter. Juan had been helpless to stop it. It was the last time he'd seen his partner, his friend.

  "So, you're just going to stay here and play with my beanbags?" he asked Shinzo, burying any thoughts about contacting Thomas, or Juan.

  Shinzo picked up the container and wrote on it with a thick black marker. "All of the beanbags have to be sent to the University lab for analysis. See if you somehow altered them on the microscopic level. I get to read their reports and sum it all up for the boss."

  Scott could feel his shoulders relax. Shinzo had no Alt abilities. Maybe that made the difference in attitude. Thomas's number two-in-command had nothing to prove. "Have you learned anything new about the Court of Blood?"

  Shinzo paused, marker in his hand. "You know I'm not supposed to talk about it."

  "To anyone who doesn't already know. Whatever you tell Thomas is going to get back to me anyway."

  Shinzo paused, beanbag in hand. After a second, he continued to pack the beanbags, but must have decided Scott was right about Thomas never withholding information from his son. "I've found a half-dozen vague online references, all dated within the last few years. Most of it was buried so deep, no one who wasn't already digging would know to look for it. The few references I found were written by people who died soon after. Accidents. Sometimes only hours after the notes were written."

  "Too coinc
idental to be accidents, you mean."

  "Yeah."

  Scott watched Shinzo organize the containers. "Are you worried they'll come after you? I mean, is there a way they can track your investigation back to you?"

  "No. I'm too careful." Shinzo set the last container into a tub on the floor. "If I did anything to put you or the Captain at risk, Carraro would kill me before the Court of Blood could."

  "No, he wouldn't." Judging by Shinzo's grin, he already knew that too.

  Shinzo picked up the tub of beanbags. "See you tomorrow."

  "Yeah, see you tomorrow." And the day after that, and the day after that.

  Scott headed back to the locker room. Shinzo seemed friendly enough, but Scott wasn't ready to ask the guy if he'd be interested in grabbing a beer after work. He checked his watch. It was too early to go home and call Hannah. He wanted to talk to her about Jimmy Chung.

  He wasn't a trained detective. His ambitions had him working toward joining Star Haven's SWAT team, not toward obtaining a detective's badge. He had planned to ask Nik for advice, but if his brother was in danger —

  His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone. A text message flashed on screen from a more than familiar number. Juan Costenaro, his partner — his former partner.

  * * *

  Are you going to be at the harbor

  for the evidence transfer?

  * * *

  Scott stared at the question. Juan had once told him that he lived in Star Haven so he wouldn't have to live and breathe the Alt problem every day. He supported Mayor Dane's Alt ban. Scott hadn't disagreed with his partner and Scott himself had supported Dane's ban, too.

  * * *

  Yes. I'll be there.

  * * *

  Scott paused outside the locker room, waiting for his — friend's, partner's? — reply.

  * * *

  I'm working security for the transfer of evidence.

  I have a box of stuff from your apartment.

  Your real apartment.

  Where do you want me to leave it?

  * * *

  The hope that Juan didn't despise him for what he'd become squeezed itself back into his heart where it couldn't hurt as much. Hannah held his heart now, but this was one ache she couldn't fix.

  * * *

  Not sure. McNamara knows who I am.

  If you can give it to him,

  he'll hold it for me. Unless —

  * * *

  Scott stopped typing wondering if he should even bother with his own question. What the hell, he had nothing to lose by asking.

  * * *

  — Unless you want to meet somewhere

  after the transfer? There's a

  souvenir shop next to the hotel

  where the tourist section begins.

  * * *

  An eternity of loneliness passed as Scott waited for a reply.

  * * *

  Fine. After the transfer.

  I'll text you when I'm there.

  * * *

  Scott didn't respond, out of fear of pushing his luck. Juan's message made it clear this wasn't going to be a friendly meet-up, but he also didn't back down at the arrangement. Between this and the worry over his brother, Scott needed a mindless workout. Maybe burning off all of this excess emotion would also give him focus. He couldn't do anything about Nik or Juan, but he could work through the mystery of the guy on the roof.

  Scott replayed their fight one step at a time while he changed into his workout clothes, then headed for the gym. The two of them were well-matched in height, weight, and strength, but the other guy had him outclassed in experience. Nothing Scott threw at him had any effect. He couldn't even knock off the guy's sunglasses.

  Scott shoved open the gym door with a bang. The room was empty, giving Scott his choice of equipment. He stepped onto the nearest treadmill and set it for a punishing speed.

  Why couldn't he hurt this guy? Why didn't any of his punches connect?

  Scott almost tripped just as the treadmill picked up speed. A barrier. The guy must have used an invisible barrier to protect himself. That was his Alt ability. He’d known Scott couldn't hurt him when he’d picked the fight.

  Scott pushed the treadmill even faster, trying to outrace his thoughts. This guy knew Scott couldn't hurt him, but did he know that he had the same ability as Scott's biological father? No, he couldn't. Cole had died before Scott was even born. No one talked about him, not even Catherine. Not even to her own son. Everything Scott knew about Cole had come from newspaper articles. Thunder City called him Shelter because he had an invisible barrier he could use to shelter himself and others around him, to protect them from bullets or flying debris.

  The one thing Catherine did tell Scott was that his father had died a hero. It wasn't enough, but no amount of begging could get Catherine to tell him more. Nik, Alek, and Evan had shared a few memories of Cole, but it still wasn't enough. When Thomas came into Scott's life, Scott found a father figure of his own. His need to cling to the imaginary figure of Cole lessened as the years passed. He almost never thought about Cole anymore. In fact, he hadn't thought about his father for years — until now.

  Did this guy, this Alt, know about Cole? If he did, how?

  Having more than one Alt with the same or a similar power wasn't unusual. There had been a number of speedsters in Thunder City before and after Mach Ten had joined T-CASS. Casters like Spritz, Flame, and Cobalt could pull different elements from within themselves or from the environment around them. Alek and Evan — Rumble and Roar — showed off their identical ability to manipulate air molecules every time they flew to and from emergencies. There had even been a translocation specialist before Scott had arrived in Thunder City. Only Hannah had a unique power no one had ever witnessed before. That's part of what made her so valuable.

  The treadmill slowed as the program wound to a close, so Scott played with the thread his thoughts had gathered. His shoulder twinged. At least Hannah wouldn't see the bruise so long as he kept his shirt on. He doubted the other guy had any bruises, despite Scott's best efforts. If Cole could deflect bullets with his barrier, then no amount of punching could hurt this other guy. Scott would have to find another way to win a fight against him.

  An hour later, Scott still had no answers, but he couldn't stay at the Arena all night either. He had nothing to go home to except Thomas's empty penthouse with a freezer filled with frozen meals. At least he could call Hannah.

  Halfway back to the locker room, he glanced through the windows of a smaller gym used only by the Alts, not by any of the sport teams above ground. All the lights were off except for one spotlight. It lit a mat in the center of the room. No one stood there, just empty space.

  Someone must have forgotten to turn off the light. Scott opened the door and felt around for a switch. As he watched, the light flicked off, then back on.

  A signal, as clear as a flare in the midnight sky. He couldn't see much in the black, so he reached out and touched the back of the nearest bench. Behind him, the door slammed shut.

  An ambush. It had to be. T-CASS must have planned a beat-down because they didn't want an Alt-killer soiling their sandbox. Where else but in the middle of the Arena could they get away with it? Thomas had designed the security for the entire Arena, not just T-CASS HQ below. No one could get in or out without his security team knowing about it, but once the Alts had passed the security scan, they could move around with no one monitoring them.

  Scott stepped slowly into the light. He needed his weapons, but they were back in the locker.

  "You won't need them."

  The familiar voice growled from behind. Scott whirled around, facing darkness.

  "You give yourself away."

  He whirled again, toward the circle of light, but there was nothing.

  "Whenever you think about using your guns, you clench your right fist."

  Still nothing. Maybe he could try to use his Alt power, but how could he pull anything if he couldn't see
his target?

  "Whenever you think about using your Alt ability, you clench your left fist."

  Son-of-a-bitch. Still hulked out in black with mirrored sunglasses, the guard from the hospital stepped in front of Scott. "Giving yourself away like that only makes it easier for your enemies to defeat you."

  Scott unclenched his left hand, but kept his eyes locked on the guard.

  "How did you get in here?"

  The guard stood with arms akimbo. "What makes you think I don't belong here?"

  Scott had guessed right. This guy was an Alt and T-CASS knew about him. They had to, or he'd never have gotten into the Arena. "Now what?"

  "That's up to you, Grey. Do you want to waste your time playing with beanbags? Or do you want to really learn to use your ability?"

  More spotlights lit up around Scott in a semi-circle. At the center of each light was one of his weapons: two guns, two knives, one taser. The guard had broken into his locker, set up this display, and waited for Scott to walk by. All without getting caught.

  "To what end?" Scott asked.

  "I told you. There's a war coming. Your mother can't see it. Carraro can't see it either. You need to learn to fight. Fight the way a real soldier fights, to the bitter end with every weapon available to you. You need to learn the things T-CASS will never teach you."

  "But you'll teach me?"

  "Yes," the guard said.

  "And what are you getting out of this? Whose side are you on?"

  "I'm on your side."

  "How do you know I'm on the right side?"

  "I know you'll make the right choice when the time comes," the guard said.

  Except the sides weren't defined.

  The guard stood still, even as power radiated off him like hurricane-force winds across an open field. He wanted an answer from Scott. Did Scott want to train with T-CASS? With beanbags? Or, did he want to train as a soldier trained? Did he want to become a part of this theoretical war? Did he want to learn what this guy had to teach?