Synesthesia - Chapter Fifteen
Jan. 6th, 2012 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: The chapter in which all the magic (action) happens. Enjoy!
Title: Synesthesia
Rating: T (for violence and language and some gore)
Description: Ethan has lived with his gift -- hearing emotions as music -- his entire life. And he's learned to cope with it. But when a serial killer makes a home in his town, and he's contacted by different groups all wanting to make use of his ability, he finds himself dragged into the thick of things. And all he wants to do is be left alone.
[Back to the Beginning] [Previous Chapter]
Ethan woke to icy water splashing over his face, trickling down his body and soaking his hair. He coughed as it invaded his nostrils, forcefully chasing away all vestiges of sleep and leaving behind a throbbing pain in his skull.
“Wakey, wakey,” a female voice crooned; its owner patted him on the cheek.
As her hand withdrew, so did much of the water trickling down Ethan's face. His clothes remained soaked, but the water was no longer clinging to his eyelashes.
Ethan forced his eyes open and found himself staring at a pair of shapely knees. His gaze moved up; Sheila was looking down at him with a perfunctory smirk.
“Did you have a nice nap?” she asked and snapped her fingers, the water in Ethan's hair suddenly stripping free and lifting into the air in a thousand beaded droplets
Ethan coughed. “Neat trick,” he rasped. “Is that all you wanted to show me?”
“Oh, you've already seen some of my best work,” Sheila said. “Unless you've forgotten that night in the alley.”
Ethan blanched. How could he forget? It had been the focus of his nightmares for weeks.
He swallowed thickly. “What are you doing, Sheila? Why are you killing people?”
Ethan tugged on his arms as he spoke, but they'd been bound behind his back. He was currently sitting on the floor in what looked to be a living room, legs spread out in front of him. Behind him was a piece of furniture. A couch perhaps.
“Why?” Sheila repeated as though mocking him. “Because it's interesting. There's no feeling like it.” She shuddered, licking her lips. “It's wrong and right, the power of holding the beat of someone's heart in your hands. Mmm, it's exquisite.”
Ethan stared. Sheila was officially insane.
“Oh, don't look at me like that, Ethan. I'm not going to kill you.”
“Why not?”
“You're far too valuable.” Sheila leaned over and gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Thanks to our mutual acquaintance. You are my ticket out of here.”
Frankly, Ethan wasn't relieved. And what mutual acquaintance? “Why were you after me?”
Sheila laughed, loosing her grip to draw back and put some space between them. “Do you honestly think I did all of this just to get my hands on you? My, you do have a high opinion of yourself.”
“You just said so.” He distinctly remembered her claims of needing him alive.
“That's a pretty recent development. In fact, you can pretty much blame my focus on you on our mutual acquaintance.”
Ethan blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Should I call him for you then?” Sheila grinned, then pursed her lips to execute a loud whistle. “Step on out and show yourself.” Hands on her hips, Sheila looked far too smug.
Ethan's eyes darted to the doorway, where heavy footsteps announced the arrival of a third person. When a familiar form darkened the entryway, Ethan's heart sank.
Taylor scowled. “I'm not your dog, woman,” he growled, slouching as his hands buried in his pockets.
“And yet you came when I called,” Sheila retorted sweetly. “Stomp on your own point, did you?”
“You're working together?” Ethan blurted. Though he should have known that by now, considering what Jaiden and Mel had told him earlier.
“Only because he hasn't succeeded in killing me.” Sheila smirked.
“Yet,” Taylor retorted and judging by the malice in his eyes, he hoped to rectify that failure soon.
Sheila rolled her eyes. “So you say. How much longer until your boss gets here anyway?”
“Soon.”
“That's not fast enough.”
“Your problem; not mine.” Taylor turned to leave and Sheila scowled at his back.
Huffing, Sheila directed her attention back to Ethan. “Where was I...?” she pondered aloud, flipping hair from her eyes. “Oh, yes. Telling you why you're still alive.”
Ethan subtly tugged his wrists, feeling plastic dig into his skin. Damn, a zip tie. How clever. He had no hope of snapping that with brute force.
“Should I be grateful?”
Sheila laughed. “Not in my opinion. You may even wish I had killed you.”
Ethan went cold on the inside. “What do you mean?”
“Did you know that Empaths are occasionally valuable creatures?” she asked flippantly, pacing slowly across a creaking wooden floor. “Taylor wasn't going to kill you, you know. At least, not until he was sure whether you'd be useful to Kryptos or not.”
She was babbling. Had to be.
“Really? So the fireball in my apartment was an accident?”
She shrugged. “He saw Jaiden and his fingers got twitchy.” She used air quotes on the last word.
Ethan stilled and of course Sheila noticed his reaction to her words. “Yes, Ethan. I know about Jaiden and the useless telepath, too. So you can stop hoping for a timely rescue.”
He'd almost forgotten about his self-appointed bodyguards. How had they not noticed he was missing? Why weren't they here yet?
“What did you do?” Ethan demanded.
Sheila had the nerve to look offended. “I did nothing. Taylor was the one who wanted to play.”
Jaiden had beaten Taylor several times before. Ethan should not feel so concerned. Except that he did. He remembered all those victims. He remembered Dray.
Ethan stiffened as his gaze shot upward, accusations bitter on his tongue. “What about Dray?” he demanded, wishing he had a stronger power. Something that could hurt, maim, make her bleed. “Why did you kill him?”
“That was Taylor's idea. Though I seconded the notion,” Sheila said plainly, without a hint of regret or guilt. She even sounded... proud. “It didn't go as well as we'd hoped. You're too forgiving, Ethan.”
“I don't understand.”
“Of course you don't. Adrayan was supposed to be a distraction, a way to separate you from Ektos and Baskania.” She thumbed her chin. “I supposed it half-worked.”
Ethan went cold to the core. They killed Dray to get to him? That was the only reason. His hands clenched into fists behind him.
“Sheila!” Taylor roared her name from the other room. “We've got company.”
She grinned, shark-like and callous. “And that would be my money and your ride. We should talk again sometime, Ethan. It's been fun. Bye.” She waggled her fingers at him.
Ethan glared, hatred dancing like poison on his tongue. Sometimes, the English language just had no words to effectively convey his disgust.
The Hydrokinetic swept from the room and Ethan got to work, violently tugging on whatever he'd been attached to. It gave, just a little, with an echoing shriek of furniture leg on wooden flooring. Ethan froze, wondering if some lackey would come investigate. He thought that he might be able to work his arms free, if he could work his binding under the leg.
His gaze skittered around the room, spying a window. If he could just get to it, he could be home free. Maybe. It was worth a shot. Ethan wasn't aiming to die just yet.
No one came to investigate. Ethan feverishly tugged on his bonds, the zip ties digging into his wrists.
Ethan!
He froze again. That was Mel's voice, faint but recognizable. Like she was shouting at him from across a canyon.
We're here!
The house shuddered violently. Ethan heard what sounded like an explosion. And then the sound of hurried footsteps. Someone ran by the doorway, but was too quick for Ethan to recognize who. He only knew by the sound of frantic anxiety that it wasn't a Kinetic. Ethan hadn't known any Norms were around.
The home trembled again. There was a distant shout and then the window to Ethan's right exploded inward. Glass sprinkled over the bland carpet in a fine, glittering tinkle.
Ethan watched anxiously as gloved hands knocked jagged bits of glass away, then hauled their owner inside. He – or possibly she – wore all black, even their face was concealed save for narrowed brown eyes. Like a ninja or something.
Ethan stared. “You've got to be kidding me.”
“Then you don't want our help?” A familiar voice asked as Mel's face popped through the open window and she hauled herself inside.
“I didn't say that,” Ethan muttered. “Where's Jaiden?”
The house shuddered, one of the bookcases threatening to topple. Mel glanced at it with a flashy grin.
“Someone has to distract Taylor,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And he was itching for a rematch.”
The silent ninja moved toward Ethan, whipping a Swiss Army knife out of some invisible pocket.
“Who are you?” Ethan asked.
“A friend,” the ninja answered, kneeling beside him to apply knife to Ethan's bonds. He – or she – spoke too softly for Ethan to tell gender.
He looked at Mel. “Your friend or Jaiden's?” he asked as the zip tie snapped and Ethan was free. He pulled his arms forward, rubbing at his sore wrists.
“She's Ektos,” Mel answered, though she didn't seem bothered by this fact. “My backup is helping out Jaiden.”
Ethan rose to his feet, cramped legs protesting the motion. “And what do you do?”
“She's the reason we found you,” Mel said cheerfully.
Ethan arched a brow. “Telepath?”
“Of a sort.” The unnamed Ektos agent turned her head toward the doorway. “Someone's coming. Let's move.”
Ethan didn't have to be told twice. Shaky legs carried him to the window and he hauled himself out through the broken pane. Glass sliced his flesh but it was a hell of a lot better than being dead.
Outside, Ethan landed on dewy grass and was slapped by a leafy rhododendron. He scowled, fighting his way free of the bushes as Melanie tumbled out behind him.
A loud boom split the night, along with a flare of orange. Ethan whirled as a plume of flame appeared above the house, bright against the dark sky. In the distance, he heard the distinct whoop-whoop of a helicopter in flight.
Melanie grabbed his arm. “Come on, Ethan. Let's go.”
“But...” The other woman from Ektos hadn't left the house yet.
“Believe me,” Mel said with an unusually strong tug. “Charlotte can take care of herself.”
Wait. That was Charlotte? As in Jaiden's girlfriend Charlotte. Holy shit.
“As for us, we're getting out of here,” Melanie continued, dragging him across a manicured lawn outrageously populated with those cheerful gnomes. “Let the firepower handle the firepower. We're just extra baggage.”
Ashamedly, Ethan had to admit she was right. He couldn't fight and hearing emotions – if there were any Norm opponents anyway – would only distract him.
“Fine,” he said, and tossed away all over-reaching thoughts of getting revenge for Dray. He'd only get himself killed, which wouldn't make Dray happy at all. “Let's go.”
“Not so fast.”
Suddenly, Ethan couldn't move. Panic bubbled up in his belly as he heard feet crunch over gravel. Sheila stepped into view, her eyes glittering eerily in the dimly lit night. How she'd gotten out here and ahead of them, Ethan had no clue.
“Ethan's my ticket out of here,” she said, fingers twitching like they had a mind of their own, her words directed at Melanie. “I can't let you take him.”
From the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Melanie's lips twist into a sneer. “That's not your decision to make. My boss would kill me if I let him fall into Kryptos' hands.”
“I'm going to kill you,” Sheila retorted.
“You haven't managed yet,” Melanie replied cheekily.
Ethan groaned. It was official. Melanie was an idiot. How could a telepath defend against a hydrokinetic?
Except... Sheila was totally focused on Melanie now. The paralyzing sensation in Ethan's legs was fading. This was his chance. Maybe Sheila couldn't take down more than one person at a time. Maybe her concentration wasn't that great.
He took a single step backward, and Sheila's head swiveled his direction, as though the mere shift of his muscles had called her attention. Immobility struck Ethan, and Mel took advantage of the moment. The thunderous sound of a gunshot split the night, cracking in Ethan's ears.
Sheila cursed, stumbled, and Ethan could move again.
“Ethan! Run!”
When the hell had Melanie started carrying a gun? And run? Run where? Back to the house? To the parking lot past Sheila? Into the darkness of the field? Which was safest?
He hesitated.
Sheila groaned and Melanie lifted her gun again, pointing it at the crouching woman. The sharp smell of gunpowder stung Ethan's nostrils. He told himself he should run, even managed another step back, but that was a step toward the house and not the best place to be. He hesitated again.
“Trust me,” Melanie said in a low voice. “I can pull this trigger faster than you can focus on ripping me to shreds.”
Something cold and sharp pressed to the side of Ethan's neck. “Do that and I'll slit his throat,” a male's voice threatened, low and disturbingly calm. Worse of all, near-familiar.
Worry. Panic. Lust. Anger. Emotions bombarded Ethan from all sides as a hand grabbed his right arm. How had he not Heard this coming?
Mel cursed, tossing Ethan a sour glance. “Damn it, Ethan. Why didn't you run?”
“Why don't you kill her already?” Ethan retorted sourly and when the metal pricked his skin, amended his statement. “I really don't think it would've mattered. So I hope you have a brilliant plan.”
“They won't kill you,” Melanie said, but this time she didn't sound sure.
Behind him, the man laughed. “Won't I? All I care about is Sheila. We can always find another way.”
Despite the cold air, Ethan began to sweat. “What do you want then?” Perhaps he could reason with the man...
Stinging pain sliced into Ethan's throat and he felt the warm trickle of blood.
“Tell your friend to drop the gun.”
“So she can kill me? Hell no,” Mel retorted. She didn't once glance Ethan's way, her gaze completely focused on Sheila.
Ethan smelled blood, tasted it on his tongue, the pulse of fury-resentment-concern like a soundtrack to his senses, highlighting Ethan's own emotions. “Melanie.”
“No, Ethan. I'm supposed to protect you but I don't want to die either.”
“Maybe I won't kill you,” Sheila wheedled, voice raspy, breath stuttering. She sounded like she was in pain, and she didn't sound sane.
She wanted to kill. There was no maybe about it.
“And maybe I shoot you first, save us all the trouble,” Melanie spat. Her fingers twitched.
Panic made Ethan wince, his knees buckle, only to be brought to reality by the painful squeeze of fingers on his arm. Somewhere in the distance, the sky rumbled. A threat of thunder or something else? Ethan couldn't be sure.
Sheila grinned. Even in the darkness, Ethan could see her white teeth. “Do that and Stephen will slit Ethan's throat. Can a mere telepath save him from that?”
Stephen? As in stocker Stephen? No wonder his voice sounded familiar. When had he started working with Sheila? When did they get to be friends? Or more, as all information seemed to dictate.
Ethan?
Mel's voice whispered in the back of his head. Loud enough that he couldn't mistake it for anything but her telepathy.
When I say so, duck.
How? He had a knife pressed to his throat for crying out loud.
But Mel didn't answer and now Sheila had risen to her feet, wobbling on her wounded leg. The sound of a helicopter was growing louder and Ethan had the strong suspicion that it wasn't the local police come to help.
“The way I see it, you've got maybe thirty seconds before a helicopter from Kryptos arrives,” Sheila taunted. “So tell me, Melanie, how do you want to die?” The air crackled as though lit by power.
Melanie smirked. “I don't know. You tell me.” Her eyebrow twitched.
Ethan! Duck!
Ethan didn't stop to think, he just threw himself to the side, away from Stephen, feeling the blade bite into skin but not slice through it. In the same moment, Melanie whipped around, squeezing off a shot that sliced through the air and slammed into Stephen's shoulder. He went down as Ethan rolled to his feet, searching wildly in the darkness.
“Bitch,” Sheila hissed.
Melanie screamed and the sound of something clattering to the ground echoed around him.
Pain like a discordant guitar rang in Ethan's ears. Sheila was hurting Mel, or was that Stephen's pain? Ethan couldn't tell anymore. It was nauseatingly loud in his ears, making him dizzy. There was so much noise, so much interference.
The air was humid, ripe with potential. Ethan's fingers gripped dew-wet grass. Bodies ebbed and flowed like the tide. Someone's heart beat faster and faster. Ethan couldn't hear it. He could feel it. Like a pulse of life through his very being. It seemed to echo in time with something inside of him.
So he reached for it.
He grabbed hold of that feeling as though it were a lifeline and he pulled. He could hear himself breathing harshly, and the jarring bells of shock and alarm jangled in his ear. Three Days Grace and Seether shrieked their guitars, but a piano was out of tune.
Ethan couldn't see a damn thing. Couldn't hear Mel over the audio onslaught. He forgot he was bleeding, forgot about Stephen. He concentrated only on that pulse, that throb of life, that ebb and flow, a nameless tide. And through the haze, there was a keening wail of agony. It bubbled up through the darkness, resonating with the power.
Ethan felt the strangest urge to laugh. He was giddy, ecstatic even. He opened his palms, closed them again. It felt like opening a gate and closing it again, stemming a tide, but allowing it to rush through once more. His hands were empty, but he held something. Something warm and liquid, while the pulse continued to echo throughout his body.
He was smiling. Why was he smiling? This was no time for humor. But the laughter was still there, clawing at the back of his throat, trying to bubble free.
Something solid and real barreled into Ethan from the side, laying him flat against the ground. His head hit dirt with a discomfiting thump as weight pinned him down. Ethan groaned as a flash of clarity returned. The tide faded, edged out by the temptation of strings, stretched in all directions, as though the atmosphere were layered in them.
Thin. So delicate and thin, like plucking spiderwebs with his fingertips. Yet, strong as well. Strong enough to endure his touches, his playing like a harp. Ethan could reach for them; it wouldn't take much.
Pain bloomed across Ethan's face, the sound of a slap carrying through the night, obnoxiously loud as the rest of the world fell silent. He bit his lip, tasted blood.
“Damn untrained empaths!” a male seethed, voice filtering through the jarring quiet. “Snap out of it, Ethan!”
He blinked, dumbly staring up at the shadowed face of his aerokinetic bodyguard, and the gleam of stars just behind Jaiden. The haze floated away, like smoke carried on the wind. “I... what?”
Ethan was shaking. Why was he shaking? He smelled blood, too. Someone was making horrible retching noises. Someone else moaned.
No, the moaning was him.
Jaiden's hands were on his shoulders, fingers firm and unrelenting, pushing Ethan into the damp grass. “You awake now?” he demanded.
“Was I sleeping?” Ethan asked groggily. His thoughts were echoing in an empty abyss. It was too quiet, too, too quiet. Ethan didn't like it.
Rolling his eyes, Jaiden moved out of Ethan's sight, the weight pinning Ethan down moving away with him. “You'll be fine,” the aerokinetic muttered.
He reached down and unceremoniously hauled Ethan to his feet, leaving Ethan to sway on two legs as the world tilted and spun. It took him a minute to regain control, but once he did, he looked around.
Mel was nearby, hunched over, hands on her knees. As Ethan looked, she slowly straightened, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Blood had also trickled from her nose, and this she hastily swiped away, too. Charlotte hovered nearby, her clothes torn but her mask intact.
“We have to go,” Melanie said, coughing into her palm. She was pale, dark circles under her eyes, like someone had dragged her through a wringer.
As if on cue, Ethan heard the sound of police sirens. The noise of a helicopter had vanished, replaced by the noisy wail of emergency vehicles. Perhaps drawn by all the explosions and gunfire.
“What about her?” Charlotte asked.
Jaiden rose to his feet and only then did Sheila see that he'd been kneeling beside Sheila, who appeared to be unconscious. She was curled on her side, as though in pain, her face etched with discomfort. Of Stephen, Ethan could see nothing.
“Leave her for the police,” Jaiden answered, his face twisted with disgust. “I don't feel like explaining things and I'm not interested in a lecture from Paul.”
Ethan swayed on his feet. “Who's Paul?” he asked, though honestly, that seemed like the one thing he didn't need to focus on right now. His brain felt like soup.
“Our Norm Liaison,” Jaiden answered absently. “And a real asshole. So let's go. You too, Mel.”
Someone grabbed Ethan by the elbow. It was Charlotte. No, she was still next to Jaiden. This was someone else in black, equally masked, with only a pair of grey eyes visible. Mel's backup?
Ethan smelled sulfur and tasted fire, felt the possibility of it breathing around him.
“Come on, Ethan,” said the unnamed man, guiding him in the direction everyone else was heading.
Except, Ethan's legs felt weighted down by lead. His dizziness had not abated either. He swayed on his feet.
“Ethan?”
Darkness fell and the ground rose up to meet him.
* * * * *
a/n: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. There is only one more chapter left to wrap things up!
[Next Chapter]
Title: Synesthesia
Rating: T (for violence and language and some gore)
Description: Ethan has lived with his gift -- hearing emotions as music -- his entire life. And he's learned to cope with it. But when a serial killer makes a home in his town, and he's contacted by different groups all wanting to make use of his ability, he finds himself dragged into the thick of things. And all he wants to do is be left alone.
[Back to the Beginning] [Previous Chapter]
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Chapter Fifteen
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Chapter Fifteen
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Ethan woke to icy water splashing over his face, trickling down his body and soaking his hair. He coughed as it invaded his nostrils, forcefully chasing away all vestiges of sleep and leaving behind a throbbing pain in his skull.
“Wakey, wakey,” a female voice crooned; its owner patted him on the cheek.
As her hand withdrew, so did much of the water trickling down Ethan's face. His clothes remained soaked, but the water was no longer clinging to his eyelashes.
Ethan forced his eyes open and found himself staring at a pair of shapely knees. His gaze moved up; Sheila was looking down at him with a perfunctory smirk.
“Did you have a nice nap?” she asked and snapped her fingers, the water in Ethan's hair suddenly stripping free and lifting into the air in a thousand beaded droplets
Ethan coughed. “Neat trick,” he rasped. “Is that all you wanted to show me?”
“Oh, you've already seen some of my best work,” Sheila said. “Unless you've forgotten that night in the alley.”
Ethan blanched. How could he forget? It had been the focus of his nightmares for weeks.
He swallowed thickly. “What are you doing, Sheila? Why are you killing people?”
Ethan tugged on his arms as he spoke, but they'd been bound behind his back. He was currently sitting on the floor in what looked to be a living room, legs spread out in front of him. Behind him was a piece of furniture. A couch perhaps.
“Why?” Sheila repeated as though mocking him. “Because it's interesting. There's no feeling like it.” She shuddered, licking her lips. “It's wrong and right, the power of holding the beat of someone's heart in your hands. Mmm, it's exquisite.”
Ethan stared. Sheila was officially insane.
“Oh, don't look at me like that, Ethan. I'm not going to kill you.”
“Why not?”
“You're far too valuable.” Sheila leaned over and gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Thanks to our mutual acquaintance. You are my ticket out of here.”
Frankly, Ethan wasn't relieved. And what mutual acquaintance? “Why were you after me?”
Sheila laughed, loosing her grip to draw back and put some space between them. “Do you honestly think I did all of this just to get my hands on you? My, you do have a high opinion of yourself.”
“You just said so.” He distinctly remembered her claims of needing him alive.
“That's a pretty recent development. In fact, you can pretty much blame my focus on you on our mutual acquaintance.”
Ethan blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Should I call him for you then?” Sheila grinned, then pursed her lips to execute a loud whistle. “Step on out and show yourself.” Hands on her hips, Sheila looked far too smug.
Ethan's eyes darted to the doorway, where heavy footsteps announced the arrival of a third person. When a familiar form darkened the entryway, Ethan's heart sank.
Taylor scowled. “I'm not your dog, woman,” he growled, slouching as his hands buried in his pockets.
“And yet you came when I called,” Sheila retorted sweetly. “Stomp on your own point, did you?”
“You're working together?” Ethan blurted. Though he should have known that by now, considering what Jaiden and Mel had told him earlier.
“Only because he hasn't succeeded in killing me.” Sheila smirked.
“Yet,” Taylor retorted and judging by the malice in his eyes, he hoped to rectify that failure soon.
Sheila rolled her eyes. “So you say. How much longer until your boss gets here anyway?”
“Soon.”
“That's not fast enough.”
“Your problem; not mine.” Taylor turned to leave and Sheila scowled at his back.
Huffing, Sheila directed her attention back to Ethan. “Where was I...?” she pondered aloud, flipping hair from her eyes. “Oh, yes. Telling you why you're still alive.”
Ethan subtly tugged his wrists, feeling plastic dig into his skin. Damn, a zip tie. How clever. He had no hope of snapping that with brute force.
“Should I be grateful?”
Sheila laughed. “Not in my opinion. You may even wish I had killed you.”
Ethan went cold on the inside. “What do you mean?”
“Did you know that Empaths are occasionally valuable creatures?” she asked flippantly, pacing slowly across a creaking wooden floor. “Taylor wasn't going to kill you, you know. At least, not until he was sure whether you'd be useful to Kryptos or not.”
She was babbling. Had to be.
“Really? So the fireball in my apartment was an accident?”
She shrugged. “He saw Jaiden and his fingers got twitchy.” She used air quotes on the last word.
Ethan stilled and of course Sheila noticed his reaction to her words. “Yes, Ethan. I know about Jaiden and the useless telepath, too. So you can stop hoping for a timely rescue.”
He'd almost forgotten about his self-appointed bodyguards. How had they not noticed he was missing? Why weren't they here yet?
“What did you do?” Ethan demanded.
Sheila had the nerve to look offended. “I did nothing. Taylor was the one who wanted to play.”
Jaiden had beaten Taylor several times before. Ethan should not feel so concerned. Except that he did. He remembered all those victims. He remembered Dray.
Ethan stiffened as his gaze shot upward, accusations bitter on his tongue. “What about Dray?” he demanded, wishing he had a stronger power. Something that could hurt, maim, make her bleed. “Why did you kill him?”
“That was Taylor's idea. Though I seconded the notion,” Sheila said plainly, without a hint of regret or guilt. She even sounded... proud. “It didn't go as well as we'd hoped. You're too forgiving, Ethan.”
“I don't understand.”
“Of course you don't. Adrayan was supposed to be a distraction, a way to separate you from Ektos and Baskania.” She thumbed her chin. “I supposed it half-worked.”
Ethan went cold to the core. They killed Dray to get to him? That was the only reason. His hands clenched into fists behind him.
“Sheila!” Taylor roared her name from the other room. “We've got company.”
She grinned, shark-like and callous. “And that would be my money and your ride. We should talk again sometime, Ethan. It's been fun. Bye.” She waggled her fingers at him.
Ethan glared, hatred dancing like poison on his tongue. Sometimes, the English language just had no words to effectively convey his disgust.
The Hydrokinetic swept from the room and Ethan got to work, violently tugging on whatever he'd been attached to. It gave, just a little, with an echoing shriek of furniture leg on wooden flooring. Ethan froze, wondering if some lackey would come investigate. He thought that he might be able to work his arms free, if he could work his binding under the leg.
His gaze skittered around the room, spying a window. If he could just get to it, he could be home free. Maybe. It was worth a shot. Ethan wasn't aiming to die just yet.
No one came to investigate. Ethan feverishly tugged on his bonds, the zip ties digging into his wrists.
Ethan!
He froze again. That was Mel's voice, faint but recognizable. Like she was shouting at him from across a canyon.
We're here!
The house shuddered violently. Ethan heard what sounded like an explosion. And then the sound of hurried footsteps. Someone ran by the doorway, but was too quick for Ethan to recognize who. He only knew by the sound of frantic anxiety that it wasn't a Kinetic. Ethan hadn't known any Norms were around.
The home trembled again. There was a distant shout and then the window to Ethan's right exploded inward. Glass sprinkled over the bland carpet in a fine, glittering tinkle.
Ethan watched anxiously as gloved hands knocked jagged bits of glass away, then hauled their owner inside. He – or possibly she – wore all black, even their face was concealed save for narrowed brown eyes. Like a ninja or something.
Ethan stared. “You've got to be kidding me.”
“Then you don't want our help?” A familiar voice asked as Mel's face popped through the open window and she hauled herself inside.
“I didn't say that,” Ethan muttered. “Where's Jaiden?”
The house shuddered, one of the bookcases threatening to topple. Mel glanced at it with a flashy grin.
“Someone has to distract Taylor,” she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And he was itching for a rematch.”
The silent ninja moved toward Ethan, whipping a Swiss Army knife out of some invisible pocket.
“Who are you?” Ethan asked.
“A friend,” the ninja answered, kneeling beside him to apply knife to Ethan's bonds. He – or she – spoke too softly for Ethan to tell gender.
He looked at Mel. “Your friend or Jaiden's?” he asked as the zip tie snapped and Ethan was free. He pulled his arms forward, rubbing at his sore wrists.
“She's Ektos,” Mel answered, though she didn't seem bothered by this fact. “My backup is helping out Jaiden.”
Ethan rose to his feet, cramped legs protesting the motion. “And what do you do?”
“She's the reason we found you,” Mel said cheerfully.
Ethan arched a brow. “Telepath?”
“Of a sort.” The unnamed Ektos agent turned her head toward the doorway. “Someone's coming. Let's move.”
Ethan didn't have to be told twice. Shaky legs carried him to the window and he hauled himself out through the broken pane. Glass sliced his flesh but it was a hell of a lot better than being dead.
Outside, Ethan landed on dewy grass and was slapped by a leafy rhododendron. He scowled, fighting his way free of the bushes as Melanie tumbled out behind him.
A loud boom split the night, along with a flare of orange. Ethan whirled as a plume of flame appeared above the house, bright against the dark sky. In the distance, he heard the distinct whoop-whoop of a helicopter in flight.
Melanie grabbed his arm. “Come on, Ethan. Let's go.”
“But...” The other woman from Ektos hadn't left the house yet.
“Believe me,” Mel said with an unusually strong tug. “Charlotte can take care of herself.”
Wait. That was Charlotte? As in Jaiden's girlfriend Charlotte. Holy shit.
“As for us, we're getting out of here,” Melanie continued, dragging him across a manicured lawn outrageously populated with those cheerful gnomes. “Let the firepower handle the firepower. We're just extra baggage.”
Ashamedly, Ethan had to admit she was right. He couldn't fight and hearing emotions – if there were any Norm opponents anyway – would only distract him.
“Fine,” he said, and tossed away all over-reaching thoughts of getting revenge for Dray. He'd only get himself killed, which wouldn't make Dray happy at all. “Let's go.”
“Not so fast.”
Suddenly, Ethan couldn't move. Panic bubbled up in his belly as he heard feet crunch over gravel. Sheila stepped into view, her eyes glittering eerily in the dimly lit night. How she'd gotten out here and ahead of them, Ethan had no clue.
“Ethan's my ticket out of here,” she said, fingers twitching like they had a mind of their own, her words directed at Melanie. “I can't let you take him.”
From the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Melanie's lips twist into a sneer. “That's not your decision to make. My boss would kill me if I let him fall into Kryptos' hands.”
“I'm going to kill you,” Sheila retorted.
“You haven't managed yet,” Melanie replied cheekily.
Ethan groaned. It was official. Melanie was an idiot. How could a telepath defend against a hydrokinetic?
Except... Sheila was totally focused on Melanie now. The paralyzing sensation in Ethan's legs was fading. This was his chance. Maybe Sheila couldn't take down more than one person at a time. Maybe her concentration wasn't that great.
He took a single step backward, and Sheila's head swiveled his direction, as though the mere shift of his muscles had called her attention. Immobility struck Ethan, and Mel took advantage of the moment. The thunderous sound of a gunshot split the night, cracking in Ethan's ears.
Sheila cursed, stumbled, and Ethan could move again.
“Ethan! Run!”
When the hell had Melanie started carrying a gun? And run? Run where? Back to the house? To the parking lot past Sheila? Into the darkness of the field? Which was safest?
He hesitated.
Sheila groaned and Melanie lifted her gun again, pointing it at the crouching woman. The sharp smell of gunpowder stung Ethan's nostrils. He told himself he should run, even managed another step back, but that was a step toward the house and not the best place to be. He hesitated again.
“Trust me,” Melanie said in a low voice. “I can pull this trigger faster than you can focus on ripping me to shreds.”
Something cold and sharp pressed to the side of Ethan's neck. “Do that and I'll slit his throat,” a male's voice threatened, low and disturbingly calm. Worse of all, near-familiar.
Worry. Panic. Lust. Anger. Emotions bombarded Ethan from all sides as a hand grabbed his right arm. How had he not Heard this coming?
Mel cursed, tossing Ethan a sour glance. “Damn it, Ethan. Why didn't you run?”
“Why don't you kill her already?” Ethan retorted sourly and when the metal pricked his skin, amended his statement. “I really don't think it would've mattered. So I hope you have a brilliant plan.”
“They won't kill you,” Melanie said, but this time she didn't sound sure.
Behind him, the man laughed. “Won't I? All I care about is Sheila. We can always find another way.”
Despite the cold air, Ethan began to sweat. “What do you want then?” Perhaps he could reason with the man...
Stinging pain sliced into Ethan's throat and he felt the warm trickle of blood.
“Tell your friend to drop the gun.”
“So she can kill me? Hell no,” Mel retorted. She didn't once glance Ethan's way, her gaze completely focused on Sheila.
Ethan smelled blood, tasted it on his tongue, the pulse of fury-resentment-concern like a soundtrack to his senses, highlighting Ethan's own emotions. “Melanie.”
“No, Ethan. I'm supposed to protect you but I don't want to die either.”
“Maybe I won't kill you,” Sheila wheedled, voice raspy, breath stuttering. She sounded like she was in pain, and she didn't sound sane.
She wanted to kill. There was no maybe about it.
“And maybe I shoot you first, save us all the trouble,” Melanie spat. Her fingers twitched.
Panic made Ethan wince, his knees buckle, only to be brought to reality by the painful squeeze of fingers on his arm. Somewhere in the distance, the sky rumbled. A threat of thunder or something else? Ethan couldn't be sure.
Sheila grinned. Even in the darkness, Ethan could see her white teeth. “Do that and Stephen will slit Ethan's throat. Can a mere telepath save him from that?”
Stephen? As in stocker Stephen? No wonder his voice sounded familiar. When had he started working with Sheila? When did they get to be friends? Or more, as all information seemed to dictate.
Ethan?
Mel's voice whispered in the back of his head. Loud enough that he couldn't mistake it for anything but her telepathy.
When I say so, duck.
How? He had a knife pressed to his throat for crying out loud.
But Mel didn't answer and now Sheila had risen to her feet, wobbling on her wounded leg. The sound of a helicopter was growing louder and Ethan had the strong suspicion that it wasn't the local police come to help.
“The way I see it, you've got maybe thirty seconds before a helicopter from Kryptos arrives,” Sheila taunted. “So tell me, Melanie, how do you want to die?” The air crackled as though lit by power.
Melanie smirked. “I don't know. You tell me.” Her eyebrow twitched.
Ethan! Duck!
Ethan didn't stop to think, he just threw himself to the side, away from Stephen, feeling the blade bite into skin but not slice through it. In the same moment, Melanie whipped around, squeezing off a shot that sliced through the air and slammed into Stephen's shoulder. He went down as Ethan rolled to his feet, searching wildly in the darkness.
“Bitch,” Sheila hissed.
Melanie screamed and the sound of something clattering to the ground echoed around him.
Pain like a discordant guitar rang in Ethan's ears. Sheila was hurting Mel, or was that Stephen's pain? Ethan couldn't tell anymore. It was nauseatingly loud in his ears, making him dizzy. There was so much noise, so much interference.
The air was humid, ripe with potential. Ethan's fingers gripped dew-wet grass. Bodies ebbed and flowed like the tide. Someone's heart beat faster and faster. Ethan couldn't hear it. He could feel it. Like a pulse of life through his very being. It seemed to echo in time with something inside of him.
So he reached for it.
He grabbed hold of that feeling as though it were a lifeline and he pulled. He could hear himself breathing harshly, and the jarring bells of shock and alarm jangled in his ear. Three Days Grace and Seether shrieked their guitars, but a piano was out of tune.
Ethan couldn't see a damn thing. Couldn't hear Mel over the audio onslaught. He forgot he was bleeding, forgot about Stephen. He concentrated only on that pulse, that throb of life, that ebb and flow, a nameless tide. And through the haze, there was a keening wail of agony. It bubbled up through the darkness, resonating with the power.
Ethan felt the strangest urge to laugh. He was giddy, ecstatic even. He opened his palms, closed them again. It felt like opening a gate and closing it again, stemming a tide, but allowing it to rush through once more. His hands were empty, but he held something. Something warm and liquid, while the pulse continued to echo throughout his body.
He was smiling. Why was he smiling? This was no time for humor. But the laughter was still there, clawing at the back of his throat, trying to bubble free.
Something solid and real barreled into Ethan from the side, laying him flat against the ground. His head hit dirt with a discomfiting thump as weight pinned him down. Ethan groaned as a flash of clarity returned. The tide faded, edged out by the temptation of strings, stretched in all directions, as though the atmosphere were layered in them.
Thin. So delicate and thin, like plucking spiderwebs with his fingertips. Yet, strong as well. Strong enough to endure his touches, his playing like a harp. Ethan could reach for them; it wouldn't take much.
Pain bloomed across Ethan's face, the sound of a slap carrying through the night, obnoxiously loud as the rest of the world fell silent. He bit his lip, tasted blood.
“Damn untrained empaths!” a male seethed, voice filtering through the jarring quiet. “Snap out of it, Ethan!”
He blinked, dumbly staring up at the shadowed face of his aerokinetic bodyguard, and the gleam of stars just behind Jaiden. The haze floated away, like smoke carried on the wind. “I... what?”
Ethan was shaking. Why was he shaking? He smelled blood, too. Someone was making horrible retching noises. Someone else moaned.
No, the moaning was him.
Jaiden's hands were on his shoulders, fingers firm and unrelenting, pushing Ethan into the damp grass. “You awake now?” he demanded.
“Was I sleeping?” Ethan asked groggily. His thoughts were echoing in an empty abyss. It was too quiet, too, too quiet. Ethan didn't like it.
Rolling his eyes, Jaiden moved out of Ethan's sight, the weight pinning Ethan down moving away with him. “You'll be fine,” the aerokinetic muttered.
He reached down and unceremoniously hauled Ethan to his feet, leaving Ethan to sway on two legs as the world tilted and spun. It took him a minute to regain control, but once he did, he looked around.
Mel was nearby, hunched over, hands on her knees. As Ethan looked, she slowly straightened, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Blood had also trickled from her nose, and this she hastily swiped away, too. Charlotte hovered nearby, her clothes torn but her mask intact.
“We have to go,” Melanie said, coughing into her palm. She was pale, dark circles under her eyes, like someone had dragged her through a wringer.
As if on cue, Ethan heard the sound of police sirens. The noise of a helicopter had vanished, replaced by the noisy wail of emergency vehicles. Perhaps drawn by all the explosions and gunfire.
“What about her?” Charlotte asked.
Jaiden rose to his feet and only then did Sheila see that he'd been kneeling beside Sheila, who appeared to be unconscious. She was curled on her side, as though in pain, her face etched with discomfort. Of Stephen, Ethan could see nothing.
“Leave her for the police,” Jaiden answered, his face twisted with disgust. “I don't feel like explaining things and I'm not interested in a lecture from Paul.”
Ethan swayed on his feet. “Who's Paul?” he asked, though honestly, that seemed like the one thing he didn't need to focus on right now. His brain felt like soup.
“Our Norm Liaison,” Jaiden answered absently. “And a real asshole. So let's go. You too, Mel.”
Someone grabbed Ethan by the elbow. It was Charlotte. No, she was still next to Jaiden. This was someone else in black, equally masked, with only a pair of grey eyes visible. Mel's backup?
Ethan smelled sulfur and tasted fire, felt the possibility of it breathing around him.
“Come on, Ethan,” said the unnamed man, guiding him in the direction everyone else was heading.
Except, Ethan's legs felt weighted down by lead. His dizziness had not abated either. He swayed on his feet.
“Ethan?”
Darkness fell and the ground rose up to meet him.
a/n: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. There is only one more chapter left to wrap things up!
[Next Chapter]
