Part 4 (1/2)
Chapter Six.
”You okay?” Will asked as Murphy drove the four wielders back to the Rayburn building in one of the few operable Humvees. Ramirez had insisted that his man bring us back, and I understood why. Alone, with only Murphy as witness, we could slowly fall apart like we always did in the wake of a huge fight. Despite his harda.s.s nature and pinched expression, this was a man who would give us the s.p.a.ce we needed. Aside from telling me that my support team had gone to search for Ella and Penn, Murphy remained quiet as the four of us slumped in the back seat.
I didn't answer Will, so full of questions and concern I didn't know where to start. Mike, a wielder again? Did any of the news cameras catch me flying? I'd been too wound up to even think about what I might've done. What was showing on CNN right now?
Then there was the fact that Parker's knife would only come to me. So far, I was the only wielder who could wield two blades. But was there more to this? Was it because I'd understand the spirit's request to go to Uncle Mike? Or was the question about my position on this team being answered again?
I settled with the most pressing question. ”Murph? Has anyone seen my sister?”
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. ”Thought she was still in the bunker.”
Major Ramirez shook himself out of a stupor. ”Me, too. Why would you ask where she is?”
Jorge, who was sitting in the rear-facing seat next to him, c.o.c.ked his head to one side. His eyes widened. ”She left. She left and is out here somewhere, isn't she?”
I nodded. ”I can't really explain what happened, but she ditched Brent to come outside. I'm scared she's hurt or lost.”
Ramirez didn't ask, for which I was grateful, and relayed an order to Murphy. ”Call Johnson. Tell him to gather a small team to go after her.”
”He'll find her if she hasn't already turned up,” Jorge said. ”I'm sure she's fine, though. She has a knack for surviving.”
He didn't know the half of it. I couldn't decide what had me more upset-Parker being dead and his knife basically telling me my uncle was its new wielder, or Mamie turning into some kind of monster-dodging ninja. At least they were sending Johnson to find her. If anyone could, it would be her most devoted disciple.
Weird that I thought of him-and her-that way now. But Johnson had sensed long before anyone else that Mamie had shamanic abilities, and he'd treated her accordingly, with respect and no small amount of awe.
”So, where did those flying monstrosities come from?” Ramirez asked, rubbing his forehead. ”We didn't have an eclipse.”
I had a feeling I knew. This had happened to us in Africa and Australia, too. ”Anybody hear about a ma.s.s suicide on the news?”
Murphy nodded. ”It was on the radio. I heard about it right after we dropped you off for the hearing. Five adults and one little girl. They found them in Fairfax, Virginia this morning.”
”A cla.s.sic Nocturna Maura calling ritual,” I said. ”I think their twisted head witch wanted to prove that being in jail wasn't enough to stop her from going after us.”
”And what better time for Ann Smythe to do that than when all five wielders were in one highly populated, very public spot?” Will growled. ”All those poor civilians dead, and for what?”
”They managed to take one of us out,” Jorge murmured. ”But what a large cost to accomplish that.”
I put my head in my hands, unable to deal with it. That's when I realized something else. ”Will, you have a migraine?”
”Yeah, why?”
I didn't. After a fight, especially one where we used a ton of energy, normally I ached all over and felt like there was a rave going on in my skull. I did ache-but a lot of that was from the fight itself, not the magic.
”I do, too,” Ramirez said, rubbing his temples. ”Like I've got a ma.s.sive hangover, which is how it always is.”
”Little twinge here,” Jorge said. ”But that's normal for me.”
Okay, so what was different for me this time? ”Tink, what's happening?”
She sighed. You took residual power to cope.
She means you took power from me, Parker's knife-spirit said. My wielder was dying; it was inevitable and regrettable. The best I could do was a.s.sist you.
It hurt to think I'd used Parker's spirit while his life bled out. It made me feel like a leech. ”Thanks for the help, then.”
You need all your strength to get through the next few hours, Parker's spirit said. His voice was as quiet and cultured as his previous wielder's had been. I'm glad to a.s.sist you. But in return, take me home.
What would Mike say? How would he handle being part of the wielder team again after so long? How could I take Baby Kate's father away from her-again?
The military had cleared the streets around the Rayburn building and the National Guard was in full force, evacuating survivors, helping the injured, and keeping the press as far away as possible. Still, news helicopters circled overhead once more now that the skies were safe.
Someone had removed the Freak's body from the front steps with a crane, even though the doors were still mangled. As we picked our way around the debris, I saw the remains of my suit jacket buried in some rubble.
I glanced at myself in a bit of unbroken gla.s.s at the entrance. I had smears of dark green Freakasuarus blood all over my face and arms, my T-s.h.i.+rt and pants were shredded in more than one place, and I had a ton of bleeding scratches showing through the torn fabric.
My shoes, for whatever perverse reason, were merely scuffed. Figured.
”Before I go to my family, do you think I could change?” I asked Murphy. ”I look like c.r.a.p and my mom's probably already about to have a nervous breakdown. She shouldn't see me like this.”
”Yeah.” Will's T-s.h.i.+rt was ripped through at the bottom and he tried to tug the pieces together without success. ”I can't go brief Congress with my abs hanging out.”
”Hey,” I said, suddenly punch-drunk. ”A few of those Congresswomen might not mind so much.”
”They better mind,” Ramirez growled. ”He's jail bait, and so are you.”
I knew our joking around wasn't why he was so mad-he was angry that we were here, in this position, and that it had gotten one of our own killed. Easier to bark about something less serious than face all that, though.
”The command team is around the corner,” Murphy said. ”They might have something for you.”
We went inside and turned into the first conference room. Uncle Mike, Aunt Julie, General Richardson and a small staff-including Davis, our best communications expert-had moved in here from the mobile unit. Davis had rigged up a command center complete with laptops and live news feeds, and phones were in every hand. As soon as we came in, Uncle Mike dropped his phone, crossed the room in two steps and engulfed me in a hug.
”What a mess,” he said, stepping back to check me out at arms' length. ”You're in one piece. Thank G.o.d.”
”Not all of us,” I said, as the reality of Parker's death swept over me. I clenched my fists tight to keep the sadness at his loss from taking over before my day was done. ”Parker was killed.”
The room went utterly silent except for the CNN news feed playing quietly on a monitor in the corner.
”How?” the general asked.
Ramirez was the one to give the report, and he made it all the way through without showing a shred of emotion. I don't know how, but he did.
The general swore and stomped over to a table to pick up the receiver on an old fas.h.i.+oned red phone. ”Get me the President,” he barked. ”I want him to know exactly what happened here, and why Congressman Patrick deserves to be censured on the House floor.”
While he was chewing out some White House aide, Julie and Davis came over. Davis's limp was less p.r.o.nounced now that some time had pa.s.sed since his injury, but it was still obvious that something wasn't quite right. At one time, I'd blamed myself for the injury that cost him his foot. Now, I blamed a woman sitting in a dark cell somewhere in an undisclosed CIA location.
Nocturna Maura had done this. Five witches had sacrificed themselves and an innocent little girl to bring this horror down on us. And they'd done it at the command of their leader, Ann Smythe. I'd go see her soon, and take Jorge and Mamie with me. If anyone could make her talk, it was my sister.