Deena Riordan: Indelible Ink Part 9

Garrett looked at Leonard. With the man's size and implied strength, it wasn't hard to see why he got into that line of work. Anyone saw him coming, they'd likely cough up what they owed. "How's he going to help us, exactly?"

"He has the same thing inside him the rest of our subjects do. Same thing Deena Riordan has," Rice said. "It's a good opportunity. He's the first Ink we've grabbed in a long time."

The man on the table hadn't moved since Garrett started watching. "Is he still all right?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course he's all right," Rivers snapped.

"With the track record of keeping these people alive, I thought it might be smart to ask," Garrett said.

"He's fine." Rice pulled out his phone and started tapping away on it.

"What's going to happen to him?" Garrett asked.

The clean white room was cold, quiet and smelled of antiseptic. None of the noises from the other room bled through, though there was a speaker on the wall that allowed everything to be heard if the switch was flipped into the on position.

"Same thing that's happened to the rest, I suppose. They'll study him to figure out what makes him tick, where his power comes from," Rivers said. He was staring into the other room with his arms folded. Rice stood next to him, doing the same.

"They'll dissect him like the ones you showed us?" Pel asked.

Rice looked annoyed. "I doubt it. That didn't work the last several times. Highly unlikely they'll do it again. We need Inks to use as long-term study subjects."

"Gets hard to explain to the superiors," Rivers said.

It was difficult for Garrett to believe that the only thing holding them back from cutting a man open and doing something that would surely end his life was the fact that someone would ask questions. Garrett knew the letter of the law as an agent of the federal government and was well versed in the rules of how prisoners needed to be treated. It made him wonder again what exactly he had stumbled into with Rivers' group. "Ain't that a b.i.t.c.h?"

"Look," Rivers added. "We've learned from our mistakes. The doctors will try any number of things before going to the extreme of removing that thing. Nope. Leonard here will be with us for a long time to come, if all goes well."

"And the girl? What about Deena? What if we get our hands on her?" Pel asked.

Rice put his phone back in his suit jacket. "We'll use what we learned from this guy and try to apply it to her."

"So you'll try not to kill her as well?" Garrett looked at the huge man on the table again. He could see a dark band around the man's arm and a.s.sumed it was the same thing Deena had on her.

Rivers turned and walked back toward the door.

"We always try," Rice said.

Men and women wearing alabaster clean-suits began to surround Leonard in the room below, checking the machines that surrounded him, and taping tubes to him that jutted out at all angles. More men came in with tablets and notebooks, collecting data and checking readings.

Rivers grunted and turned for the door. "We've got some time; let's check in with Stanley to see where we stand. I really hate to leave this guy, though. I think we could learn a lot from an Ink as active as this one."

"Yeah. Hate to take a break long enough to possibly save Harper's life."

"Marsh isn't going to do anything to Harper before Deena gets there. He wouldn't want to lose his bargaining chip." Rice said.

"You've got this guy to play with, why are you still so hot to get her? Maybe you should study him first." Garrett couldn't help but wonder aloud. After all, he didn't want two of these people hanging around. It sounded like more trouble than they needed. He was all for bringing criminals to justice, but why not go after her when they were better equipped with information from the man they already had?

"We're prepared to get these things off the street. All of these things. Would you rather have them roaming free?" Rivers asked. "If you have a gang that robs a bank, do you stop once you catch one? Is the job done? This is what we do here; we track these... creatures down. If getting a few Inks off the street helps us understand what makes them tick, maybe we can find a cure or a means of making them normal again."

"What if they don't want to be normal?" Pel whispered quietly, as if she were concerned the man in the next room could hear her.

"It's obvious some of them don't want to be normal. If they can use this power to create the kind of mayhem we've seen, why would they? They can do whatever they want and most of what they seem to want isn't good," Rice opened the door and held it for the others.

"We don't know if all of them want to use it for criminal purposes," Garrett said.

Rice nodded as Garrett walked past. "You're not talking about the girl, right? You took a look at that file on her and her sister, right? You saw what they've done."

"I didn't say anything about her. I'm just saying that we're lumping all of these people in based on just a few..."

"Just a few? How many do we know that aren't criminals? How many good Inks have we met so far? Exactly none." Rivers pushed the b.u.t.ton for the elevator and sighed.

Rice handed Garrett a folded piece of paper.

"Go shake Marsh up a bit, just to let him know we're keeping him in our sights," Rivers said.

"Is that a warrant?" Pel asked.

"No. We haven't been able to obtain a warrant with the evidence we have right now. We know how your partner hates technology, so we wrote down Marsh's address for him on that piece of paper," Rivers said.

Pel laughed, though it was obvious she didn't want to give Rivers' joke any credit.

"Why do you want me to work here?" Garrett asked as he crumbled the paper and shoved it in his pocket. "We don't exactly mesh."

"I like you," Rivers smiled and stepped into the elevator.

"That's news. You're not exactly my favorite person right now."

Rice laughed. "He'll grow on you. He grew on me."

"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Garrett stepped to the back of the elevator with Pel.

24.

Deena was keenly aware of the other pa.s.sengers in the train car who had absolutely nothing to do with her life and the wrong turns it had taken. "Look. Let's stop this. Walk away."

"Or what?"

Deena knew they weren't giving up that easily, but wanted to stall them until she could find a way to move their conflict to a new location. That most likely meant waiting for the train to stop. Her arm was beginning to hurt-the skin felt like it was melting off her wrist and forearm. "I don't know what's going to happen here, guys. But it's been a pleasure working with you."

"What?"

Deena stood. "Well, I'm not getting off this train willingly. And I'm not waiting for us to get to the station where more thugs can gang up on me." She stepped into the aisle and walked toward the door. "I'm just asking that we take this somewhere farther away from these people." She nodded to the next train car.

The men looked at each other for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with engaging Deena or moving to another area. She felt a little better about the situation then. They were only there to stall her. For all their bravado, they were the delaying tactic. "Are you coming?" Deena put her hand on the handle to the door that led to the next car. She could see through the little window that the next car was more crowded. She wondered if the pain in her arm meant that she still could use the power she'd come to rely on so much. If she did, would it consume her again?

"Look, let's just sit down and talk about this," Ramirez said. "We don't have to get physical or anything. Just talk." His partner nodded in agreement.

"Afraid I'll make the good side of your face look like the other half? Nah. I think we should get it over with. I mean, we're not far from the next station, it's apt to get crowded in here." She moved herself back toward the men, feigning shock that they didn't want to follow her. She stepped closer, but her body was still angled towards the door. Ever since the plane, she'd felt clouded and hazy, but here, as the adrenaline built within her, she felt the veil lift.

The men were standing then, Limb held his hands out in a placating posture. "You should know Marsh has been clear that he doesn't much care if you come back alive or not."

"I figured as much."

"Just so we know where this is going," Ramirez said. He raised his hands and took a fighting stance in the aisle. The other men looked at him with widened eyes. Deena had been correct, none of the men really wanted to fight her except Ramirez.

He came on quickly, swinging a left hook and a follow-up right that she avoided easily. She responded by stepping closer and landing a punch to his ribs that left him gasping for air. A shout alerted Deena that one of the other men was coming up behind her. The scream had come from one of the other pa.s.sengers. They were all on their feet now and moving toward the exits to change cars. She was happy that they were getting out of harm's waya little dismayed that not one of them wanted to stay and help the girl being attacked by a bunch of large men, but oh well. She had no idea how the fight was going to go and would rather not see a Good Samaritan get hurt for no good reason.

The confines of the aisle limited what Deena could do in response to the thug that approached her from behind, so she swung back and kicked him in the jaw, then the chest, sending him sprawling into his companion. Ramirez attacked again, this time plowing into her like a tackling dummy. Much like the first time they'd fought, he had no style, just brute force. Fists over finesse. He got her in the shoulder with a solid punch then he was on top of her, forcing her to the ground with his weight. He continued to push her, though he was hampered from hitting her due to the seats on either side of them. She could see his crew was becoming bolder with the success he was having, and they moved in to help.

Her arm felt heavy, like it was tied to a cinderblock. Since she couldn't punch, Deena reached up and grabbed Ramirez's neck and noticed her hand was slowly turning black. She began to mumble words to control the Shadow Energy as it welled up within her. She didn't know what would happen this time if she let it loose.

"That crazy voodoo s.h.i.t ain't going to help you this time," Ramirez said, and he swung his arm over his head to punch her just above the temple. He managed a second in the same manner. Deena could feel a trickle of blood start on her forehead.

"All right. That's enough." Deena could hear Avi's voice from behind Ramirez. "Let her up," he said.

Ramirez looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be driving this b.i.t.c.h back to the office right now."

"Let her up."

"What? Did she sweet-talk you or something? All you had to do was get her in the car and get back to the L.A." He looked down at Deena. "And yet, here you are."

Deena heard the hammer being pulled back on a gun.

"You gonna shoot me?" Ramirez asked.

Deena took the opportunity while Ramirez was distracted to bring her knee up into his groin, forcing him to crumple and giving her the chance to slide out from under him. One of the other men took out a gun and Avi shot him quickly. Everyone else ducked for cover behind seats and Deena was sure she heard more guns being drawn and wished she'd been carrying one of her own.

Ramirez and one of the other men she didn't know were closer to Avi, so Deena moved to the other end of the car, where Limb and the man Avi shot were. She moved quickly from row to row, using the seats as cover. The men fired a few shots as she got closer. She heard Avi and Ramirez fighting behind her. After she heard another barrage of shots, Deena ran toward Limb and leapt over the last row of seats to land on him, knocking the gun out of his hand in the process. She landed blow after blow quickly, not giving him a chance to recover. Limb tried to get up, but she got on top of his chest and planted one knee on his throat, choking off his air supply. He flailed with his arms, trying to knock her off, but he'd already begun to panic. His attacks were weak and she parried them easily. Limb's eyes were getting wide as he realized he was close to losing consciousness.

There was a shot then and Deena felt like someone had hit her with a hammer. She turned and saw the man Avi shot earlier was lying on the ground, but had a gun pointed at her. A wisp of smoke hung in the air in front of his face. She looked down to see a hole torn in her shirt near the center of her chest. Her lungs suddenly burned with each breath and she could see blood begin to seep out from between her fingers. Limb began coughing, as Deena's pressure on his windpipe eased, and he pushed her off. She sank against the side of the car, not sure what to do next or if there was anything she actually could do.

At the other end of the car, she could see Ramirez and Avi still fighting. The punches landed in slow motion until she saw the knife in Ramirez's hand. It swung in a wide arc, slashing across Avi's chest once, then twice. As Avi reeled backward into the train's doorframe, he lost his balance, and Ramirez took the opportunity to plunge the blade into Avi's stomach.

Deena couldn't scream. Her chest hurt when she tried. She looked down at the wound, and found that the blood that had been pouring from the hole had turned to black, like the tentacles that she'd hoped were gone from her life. It poured from the hole until the blackness caught up with, and enveloped, the blood.

She thought she might pa.s.s out as her chest became hot.

25.

Deena at 16 the first time around One day Deena and Harper pushed their stolen truck into the lake and proceeded to take two bicycles they'd found unattended in the park. They planned to ride into the nearest town. If they were lucky, they could eventually make their way to Los Angeles and get work. The city wasn't far. Another day or so by bike. They were filthy and starving. They'd been living like racc.o.o.ns; breaking into coolers and stealing snacks from campers and hikers to get by. Deena was actually getting good at catching fish in the lake, sometimes grabbing them out of the water with her bare hands. Of course, Harper wasn't fond of fish. They'd avoided even little towns for fear of being recognized, but they were just desperate enough to brave the big city.

They took a back trail around the lake and through the pines, with the intention of taking an old service road into town. A good deal of the trail was uphill and, as undernourished as they were, they tired quickly and rested by walking the bikes for a bit.

"We really need to steal something good. Steaks, maybe," Deena said. "I'm sick of peanut b.u.t.ter and if we steal one more picnic basket full of baloney sandwiches, I'm going to scream." The lack of food was driving Deena crazy, but she knew it had to be killing her sister. Harper liked things just so. She liked particular brands of cereal in the morning, with fresh bananas and strawberries-usually organically grown. She drank her special morning blend of tea that she made Dad buy from the local market, thin sliced bagels with cream cheese and fresh squeezed orange juice. She was a pain in the a.s.s. "Want to knock over a deli or something?" She said it as a joke, but the sudden burst of adrenaline that followed made her feel amazing. Catching the fish even gave her a rush that she hadn't expected. It reminded her of the day they'd left home.

Harper said nothing. She looked exhausted from the ride, and for the last few days seemed like she was seriously considering calling someone to come get her and save her from this nonsense.

"Roast beef! G.o.dd.a.m.n I miss roast beef." Deena said. "Swiss cheese? Mmmm."

"Easy there Gilligan, we've been hiding in the woods for a month, not lost on a desert island for a year," Harper said.

"You have absolutely no imagination and no soul."

"What does roast beef have to do with having a soul?" Harper asked.

Deena was about to needle her sister, just for something to do, when she heard voices ahead. "Shhh. Harper, wait." The two stopped and Deena guided her sister closer to a nearby tree. In the distance, a shiny black car was idling on the service road. A white cloud streamed from the tailpipe and they could see the outline of someone sitting in the driver's seat.

"Maybe we could go kick this guy's a.s.s and take his car," Deena said. She was desperate enough to try, and she felt her arm ache again when she suggested the violent act. She'd done nothing illegal in her life. Never stolen anything. Barely jaywalked. Never got into a real fight, other than the one with Mike, of course. But she was sure she could do it and she was itching to give it a shot. Something told her in the back of her mind that she could do anything she wanted. And it made her want to try. For the first week after they ran, Mike's death was all she could focus on. She shook violently as she cried some nights thinking what she'd done. Her conscience managed to break through the fog in her head in tiny random moments. The guilt had nearly made Deena cave to Harper's pleas to return home. But the next week, the dot on her arm began to grow larger, and the death moved to the back of her line of thinking. By the next week, the whole incident seemed like something that had happened to someone else. Maybe she'd seen it on television or a video game. It got so she had trouble remembering his name.

Harper winced at the idea. "The car looks pretty fancy, I think someone would be more apt to come looking for it than they would the c.r.a.ppy pickup we sent swimming this morning."

They soon found the source of the voices; three men were standing in the ditch by the tree line. The girls were startled that they were so close to them without noticing. The two men in back were shoving another man in a torn trench coat; moving him along with no allowance for him to walk on his own. The man was cussing and screaming at the other two, who gave no response.

"Let's get the f.u.c.k out of here before they notice us," Harper whispered.

"Why?"

Harper gently pushed her sister. "Just go."

The girls jumped when a loud crack cut through the relative silence of the woods. They turned to see one of the men had pulled out a gun and shot the one they'd been shoving. He kept the gun trained on the man in the trench coat as he fell face first to the ground. A wisp of smoke trailed out of the barrel.

"Christ." Harper's eyes got wide.

Deena instinctively reached up and covered her sister's mouth before Harper could make another sound. "We're not leaving. We're going to hold perfectly still right here until they leave. If they see us, we're dead," she whispered. "Nod if you understand?"

Harper's panicked expression told Deena everything. She was completely freaked out. She wanted to run. She wanted to get their bikes and pedal back to the campsite, h.e.l.l, back home, but if the men hadn't seen them yet, moving would probably change that.

Harper nodded slowly and Deena took her hand away. Deena could feel a tear run down her own face, and didn't realize she'd begun crying until then. She didn't think it was out of fear. It felt more like happiness. Like she'd found something she'd been looking for.

They watched the men half-heartedly kick leaves over the body before brushing their clothes off.

"Mitchel!" Neither of the men had spoken and Deena turned to see a trio of men standing by the still-running car. The oldest of them was pointing at the girls. "Over there." The men closest to the girls looked around the woods for a moment before picking the sisters out. Both stepped toward them quickly and pulled their guns from their pockets as they did.