Omega The Girl in the Box

14.



“Thor-type!” Bastian shouted somewhere in the distance; it felt far off. Another droning hum of electricity filled the air, along with the soft whoosh of Eve’s nets striking the wall.

“She moves fast,” Reed said, his hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” His voice was practically a shout, but I lifted my head to see him looking at me, lips pursed in concern.

“I’ll live,” I said as gunfire filled the air. I whipped my head up to see Madigan send a surge of lightning at Eve and Bastian, forked electricity striking the barrels of their pistols. I heard a pop from each of them as their guns flew out of their hands, Eve staggering back into the wall and Bastian ducking behind the arch that led back to the walkway.

I raised my pistol at Madigan and drew a bead on her. I hesitated, though, and she swung around. Reed had just begun to raise his gun when the burst of lightning came for us, arcing toward our weapons, the closest object to the point of contact, and metal to boot. I was already moving my gun to throw it away when the lightning hit and I managed to get clear with only a little stray voltage hitting me. Reed made a similar move and I saw him fall back, out into the uncovered walkway behind me as he recovered from the attack.

“Sienna Nealon,” Madigan said, her voice a sort of droll whisper.

“Shocked to see me?” I asked, drawing to my feet. I cringed. “That...was not the witticism I was looking for.” A pun. I blame the electricity.

“Not really,” Madigan said, her blunt face curving in a slight smile, a British accent barely there. “Perhaps surprised it took you so long to come calling, but not startled to see you here. Not after Bjorn. Not after Fries.”

“Yeah, we just keep taking your pieces off the board,” I said, circling around to place my back to the elevator door to my right. It was metal, and I had a grand plan to use it as a backstop to catch her next bolt of lightning while I tested my reflexes to see if I could dodge her attacks. The potted fern next to me was going to be my accomplice, whether it wanted to be or not. I could see Eve out of the corner of my eyes, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily, staring at Madigan with glaring eyes but not making any aggressive moves—yet. With Eve, that was sure not to last.

“But a queen has yet to fall,” Madigan said with that same eerie half-smile. “And we all know that the game doesn’t end until you’ve trapped the king. So whose pieces are moving faster toward the checkmate? Because everything else is irrelevant. Take all our pawns that you want, because so long as we make the last move, the one you don’t see and can’t defend against, we still win.”

“Aww, that’s so sad.” I backed against the elevator, felt the steel against my hand to make sure I was positioned right. “You’re just a pawn? Give yourself more credit. Maybe you’re a knight. Or, like, part of a knight. Maybe the horse’s ass.”

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” She smiled again. “Because you beat Wolfe. Because you bested Henderschott, and circumvented our spy.”

“I also decapitated your vampires, outmaneuvered James Fries and put a bunch of hurt onto your boy Bjorn,” I said. “Small victories, but I’ll take ‘em. What about you? What’ve you got, Eleanor? And please don’t say abs.”

Her face twisted in confusion and without warning she sent a bolt at Eve, who dodged behind the archway to hide behind Bastian, who I could see from where I was standing. “You needn’t ask what I’ve got. I’m a hand of Omega, the oldest and most powerful force in the world. I carry out the will of those who were named gods to the men of old, those who run the world, who wield strength the average man can’t comprehend, that every other meta would die to possess. I am one of the chosen, a brandisher of thunder and lightning, and the servant of the—”

I slipped a foot behind the potted plant while she was talking, and sent it at her face with a kick. I heard the crack of thunder, saw the lightning hit the clay and refract as I charged behind it. It shattered inches from her face as her fist intercepted it and I adjusted to keep from colliding with the punch she had intended for the pot. I felt a burst of wind propel me forward, my brother giving me a helpful shove that accelerated me through the clods of dirt, blowing the plant out of my way and allowing me to deliver a punch to Eleanor Madigan’s lip. I watched it split with impact, and I followed it with another as I caught my footing, hammering her with a blow that cocked her head to the side.

I heard movement behind me—Eve and Bastian. I dodged to the side as I heard the crackle of electricity shoot through the air I had been occupying only a second earlier. Eve’s net didn’t miss this time, hitting Madigan in the chest and making a latticework of light from the middle of her thighs to the top of her neck. One hand was caught facing the ground, the other sideways, and I saw the glow as she summoned electricity to her. I stepped forward and cracked her twice on the jaw, watching her eyes roll back, knocking her out cold.

“Tough bitch,” Eve said, and whipped another net at her, this one wrapping around her face, setting it aglow and trapping her hair against the lines of it. I could see a closed eye through the gaps.

“Wow,” Reed said. “I’d never dealt with a Thor-type before. Crazy. Lightning bolts and everything.”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my knuckles where I had struck her, “but she’s no Chris Hemsworth.”

The elevator next to us dinged and sent me scrambling. I wondered very briefly if I’d have to take the memory out of a passing civilian when they saw what had happened, but felt a dash of relief when Clary and Parks stepped out.

“What the hell happened here?” Parks asked.

“A clean takedown,” Reed answered. “Minus, y’know, the clean part.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Bastian said. “Clary, you’re gonna want to go to rock-form everywhere but your head. Make it look casual, like you’re wearing gloves—but keep her away from your flesh. She’s a Thor-type, and if you let her touch you, you’re gonna wish you hadn’t.”

Clary nodded, ripping away the netting that Eve had used to restrain Madigan. Madigan didn’t even twitch as Clary freed her, the nets blinking out of existence as Clary ripped through each fiber. As he picked her up, I caught a glimpse of rocky skin under his t-shirt collar, and he readjusted her to walk her in front of him in a way that could possibly be described as making her look like she might be conscious and being walked out. If you didn’t look too closely. And you were an idiot.

“We need to move,”‘ Parks said. “Folks in the lobby were asking questions about the noise when we came up. Doubtful this will stay quiet for long.”

“FBI IDs out,” Bastian said. “Let’s not go mugging for the surveillance cameras, though.”

We moved toward the nearest stairwell, Bastian at the fore with Eve behind him, Reed at my shoulder. We cleared each floor quickly, passing a few confused hotel guests as we descended, not saying anything. Bastian waved his badge at them as we passed, running interference, saying, “Please stand clear, folks, we have a dangerous fugitive here.”

When we hit the lobby, Bastian hurried to the front desk. Dressed as he was, in a suit, he pulled his ID and warned the clerks what was coming.

“I was sure one of us was going to go off the walkway at some point,” Reed confided in me as we passed the front desk. “I mean, we fight in an open-air courtyard hotel and no one goes over the balcony?”

“I was sure it’d be you,” I said as the first chill of the outside air hit me, wind blowing my hair back. I felt the tickle of static electricity run through my hair and I wondered how long I’d be dealing with the aftershocks (ha ha) of Eleanor’s attack.

“Well, at least I’d have been able to pull a soft landing,” Reed said as we approached the van. I heard tires squeal as a Cadillac wandered into the wrong lane as it was exiting the parking lot and almost got hit by an airport shuttle. “Geez. Some people shouldn’t drive.”

“Nice to know you weren’t worried about it being me to go over the edge,” I said, stepping into the back of the van after Clary.

“I would have cushioned your fall.”

“How are we gonna keep her contained on the ride home?” Parks asked. “Have her sit on Clary’s lap the whole way?”

There was a moment of perplexed silence that ended as Bastian shut one side of the rear doors. “Yep,” he said. “Clary...sit her on your lap and stay in a rubberized form.”

“What did the poor woman do to deserve that?” Eve asked, sotto voce. We all heard it anyway and Clary changed his skin to black rubber before any hint of blush or emotion made it to his cheeks.

“Just keep her subdued,” Bastian said, and I saw no further movement from Clary. He was still, arms clamped around Madigan’s limp body, as the van started up and we pulled out onto the road, the miles ticking by and no one speaking, as though Madigan were not unconscious, electricity still filling the air around us.