Matt Archer: Redemption Part 4

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-shirt 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-shirt 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 fashioned 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.

"Mamie," I blurted out at the thought of her. "She's missing."

"We know. Johnson's searching for her." Julie shook her head. "We have no idea how she got out. Brent's been going crazy in the bunker, according to the guards, telling everyone it'll be his fault if she gets hurt. He's tried to escape twice, and it took four men to restrain him."

"I need to go over there. Anybody have a spare jacket I can throw over this mess?" I asked.

Davis held up two duffels. "I thought if trouble came up, you'd want BDUs. I'm sorry I didn't find you before everything hit the fan."

"If I weren't so disgusting and it wasn't a little weird, I'd give you a man-hug right here," I said, taking my duffel. When I peeked inside, I was impressed to see not only my BDUs, but boots and a standard hygiene kit. "You're prepared for everything."

He gave me a pleased smile. "I'm going to remember you said that, what with all the grief you gave me for staying presentable in the field."

"Davis, you iron your BDUs! But I swear on my knife that I'll never razz you about that again."

Will and I ducked into the men's room down the hall to change. Mercifully, it hadn't been damaged and the water still worked. The only thing that could've been better was a hot shower, but a good cleanup at the sink and a change of clothes made a world of difference.

No longer looking like walking death, I followed Uncle Mike and the general down to the bunker. On the way, I pulled Mike aside at Parker's knife-spirit's urging.

"I need to talk to you. Soon."

"What's up?" he asked.

"Um, we have a slight issue. See, the-"

"Wait? Is that Brent?" Will asked.

We stopped in the hall, and I could hear my brother raging from twenty yards away. Through a thick metal door.

"Let me out! The danger's over-the news said so! I have to go look for her!" There was the sound of a scuffle. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it, let me out!"

"Ever consider asking that young man to enlist?" General Richardson asked Mike. "Because he has the right kind of temperament."

"What, a total bada.s.s when it means defending someone?" I muttered to Will.

"Maybe just a total bada.s.s in general," he answered. "With an emphasis on the 'a.s.s' part."

The general banged on the door and the bunker went quiet. "This is General Richardson. Threat's contained. Open up."

As soon as the door swung open, Brent came plowing over the MPs to skid into the hall. He stopped short when he saw us. "Mamie's gone! We have to-"

I held up a hand. "I know-I saw her. We have a team searching for her."

"Saw her? Why the h.e.l.l didn't you bring her back?" he snapped.

"I'll let her explain that once we find her, because there's no way I'll do it justice," I said. "Where's Mom?"

One of the MPs standing behind Brent snapped to attention, "Mr. Archer, sir. She's at the back of the bunker, sir."

I glanced at Uncle Mike. He shrugged. "They saw the whole thing on TV. I think you've been promoted."

"Uh, okay." I nodded to the MP. "Can you take me to her?"

He spun on his heel and led me inside. The bunker was a square room with cinderblock walls painted a dull gray. Chairs and round tables were scattered throughout and a pair of restrooms were in the back. It wasn't the type of place you'd wait out a nuclear strike, but definitely someplace to hold people for a while when security was iffy.

Mom was standing with Congressman Tarantino in front of a bank of monitors. One was CNN, another was a local news channel, and the third was MSNBC.

The local news channel was playing one particular scene over and over.

"'What's your name?'" a terrified voice asked.

And there I was. Crazy-eyed and wild, walking up to the camera.

"Oh, G.o.d," I said. "If my cover wasn't blown before... "

Right as I said it, CNN switched the picture to a street fight-Will and I taking down a Freak while herding civilians to the Library of Congress.

"It is now," Mom said quietly. She turned to face me, her expression a mix of fear and amazement. "How did I not know what this really meant? I mean, I knew what you were doing, in theory. But this? There's a rumor that one of you can fly! Can you fly, Matt?"

The hysterical edge to her voice told me to tread carefully. "Uh.... "

"Did anyone get that on camera?" Ramirez asked.

"No, no pictures of a flying wielder. It's only speculation for now, although we might have a leak with the team out there," Tarantino said. "Reporters are trying to interview every spare man on the street."

"Better a rumor than proof," Ramirez said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I cringed. "True story. So, anybody heard from Penn or Ella?"

"They're missing, too?" Mom cried. "What were they even doing out there?"

"That's another long story."

Her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I'm badgering you with questions after you've been running all over the Mall, saving people." She came to give me a long hug, and I was struck by how small she seemed. She wasn't-in reality, she was five-eight-but today I'd grown in her eyes. Now she saw me as a man, not a child, and I felt older than seventeen staring down at the top of her head.

"It's okay, Mom." I patted her back and let her go. "Everything will be okay now."

"No," she whispered. "It won't."

I had nothing to say to that. Her world had been rocked the last few years, and today only put a fine, sharp point on it. I glanced over at Uncle Mike and jerked my head. He got the hint and came over to put an arm around her.

"I know today has been incredibly hard, but Dani, if you take a moment to marvel at what you and Erik created, it might make this a little easier. Your kids are truly exceptional."

Hearing Uncle Mike call me exceptional had the same effect as his compliments always did-it made me want to live up to it.