Chapter 23
Someone Else
I kept calm all the way out of the room, able to keep myself from looking back at Sienna only through years of ridiculous, rigorous discipline. After I was through the doors, I started to run, making my way through Omega’s labyrinthine base. I burst through the exit and smashed the window out of a car that was parked outside. This one looked like something one of the Omega guards might drive, a sedan that didn’t look too old. I hotwired it, and it started without a bit of fuss. The engine roared to life, and I paused, taking a breath after what I’d just accomplished.
“Good luck, kiddo,” I whispered as I put the car into reverse and made a three point turn, angling it toward the road that would lead me off the premises. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
I gunned the engine, scaring the hell out of a few guards. I picked up a few bullet holes on the way out, but nothing too serious, I thought. Then I felt the pain in my shoulder. I looked down, and sure enough, blood was streaming down my arm. Dammit. I hoped my daughter had better luck than I’d had. She should. After all, now she had Andromeda looking out for her.
I swerved as I made my next turn; the wheel was getting harder and harder to control and I felt a little faint. I shook my head, trying to clear the little sparkles of light from my vision. Something was in front of me though, big and black, and very close. I jerked the wheel to the right and my car went off the road. After all this time, I finally had a decent car and I ended up—
I woke up after a few seconds, I thought. I was still bleeding out of my shoulder. I forced the door open and pulled myself out, to my feet. I snuck a quick look in the rearview mirror; at least I didn’t look as bad as Sienna had when I left her behind.
I walked across the road in as close to a straight line as I could manage. I recognized the car when I got closer; government plates, men in suits in the driver and passenger sides. The first one was getting out as I got close and I used my meta speed to cut the distance between us, putting my hands on his face. I heard a scream from the back seat, and I could see the other agent pull his gun, aiming it at me, too scared to shoot through his partner. I pulled the pistol out of the holster of the agent I had in my grip and shot the other in the chest, twice, aiming for the kevlar vest I knew he was wearing.
He slammed against the door behind him with each shot, and I let the first agent drop. The door to the backseat of the SUV opened and a blond girl stepped out, flushed and angry. She was tall, willowy, pretty in that annoying kind of way a cheerleader is. I rolled my eyes when I saw her, and she put up her hands, as though she was ready to fight. I grabbed her fist when she threw her first punch, and held onto it until her expression changed.
It was kind of funny to watch. She grunted and strained, and even with my shoulder oozing blood, I still managed to keep a grip on her until her eyes rolled back in her head. I felt good after, which was normal, but when I moved my shoulder, I realized it didn’t even hurt. “Persephone,” I whispered as she dropped to the ground.
I went to the passenger side and pulled out the agent I’d shot. He was still breathing, so I touched his face, draining him until I was sure he wouldn’t remember anything. “Sorry,” I said to his unconscious body, “but it’s best you don’t remember running into me.” That done, I pulled the blonde girl into the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat myself. I started the car and let it run for a second before I put it in gear and pulled back onto the main road.
When I went to make the turn to the right that would take me back to town and eventually an interstate, my eyes caught on the Persephone. I didn’t owe her an explanation, not really, especially since she was unconscious, and it was pretty unlikely she would remember. Still, I looked at her, and she reminded me a little of Sienna, mostly in the age, and I told her anyway.
“Sorry, kiddo, but I need you.” My eyes traced the lines of her face, the slack, relaxed musculature that reminded me of a little girl who used to be so innocent...but most of that was gone when I’d left her behind just minutes earlier. I wondered when it had gone away, and who had done it. I felt a flash of anger, and knew who to blame. “He doesn’t give a damn about human agents, you know, but I bet he’ll care about you. That’s how he always was. Metas first.” I shook my head. “Not that you care, but that’s it. That’s why I took you with me. You’re my insurance, for when we collide...because it’s coming soon. I can feel it. Real soon, and after all, I’m just one girl, alone against the whole Directorate. So I’m gonna need some help, and that’s you, blondie. You’re it. My fulcrum.
“You’re my leverage for Erich Winter.”
A Note to the Reader
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Thanks again for your time.
Robert J. Crane
Acknowledgments
Third time around, and thrice charmed I have been as an author of this particular series. There are again thanks aplenty to be doled out, and here are the responsible parties:
Heather Rodefer, my inestimable Editor-in-Chief (she keeps earning that title) once more deconstructed this manuscript from top to bottom, from left to right. She has my thanks for keeping me between the (electronic) lines.
Shannon Garza gave me feedback on the emotional highs and lows of this piece (in addition to searching tirelessly for all those pesky errors I sneak in to give her something to hunt for) and helped it achieve whatever emotional resonance it may have (for me it held a lot, your mileage may vary).
Debra Wesley once more assisted me in finding errors, eliminating inconsistencies, and picking up little details that I hope my more eagle-eyed readers find (hints for the future, so read close).
Calvin Sams also read over this particular work, giving me some notes on his thoughts, and for that, I thank him.
Robin McDermott also provided a great deal of editorial input, helping to shape the way this manuscript was written, and helped me catch some very important errors.
Wendy Arnburg took time to help me figure out exactly which guns Sienna would find most comfortable. She would want me to tell you that the choice of Sienna’s back-up gun (a Walther PPK) was totally the author’s choice, and a nod to the world’s most famous fiction user of said firearm, and was against her advisement.
Janelle Seinkner took time to answer a few medical questions about things that I wondered about (for Sienna, not for me). That help was much needed, and my thanks go to her for it. Any medical errors that remain are probably there because I should have listened closer to her rather than tried to go with what was best for the story.
The cover was designed by Karri Klawitter (Artbykarri.com). Exceptional covers, exceptional prices.
Thanks also to Nicholas J. Ambrose of www.everything-indie.com, who did the edit and format work here once more. Nick is truly a titan, and one of those most responsible for my work upholding the level of professionalism that it does. During the final phase of publication of this book it was driven home to me in a very obvious fashion how much Nick has contributed to every one of my books, and for that, I thank him.
And in the last part of the roundup, thanks to my mom and dad, wife and kids. You know who you are.