Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy Read online

  “Yes,” I say to Milo, “I would have liked to have had you here with me.”

  “But, what about …” His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. I know he’s thinking about Braden, how I went into a frenzy when I realized he’d been taken and tried to power my way through my friends to find him, of how I admitted that I had fallen in love with him. I remember how all three of them had to tackle me and tie me to a chair-which I still don’t think was necessary-to keep me from bolting.

  “Milo, I…” My throat and mind seize up on me. I can’t think or speak. I don’t know what to say. I can’t say anything. I can’t do this right now, not over the phone, not an entire country away. “Can we talk about this when I get back?”

  When Milo speaks again, the beautiful caress of his voice has stiffened back into business mode, bringing a poignant sense of loss to my heart. “I went to Mr. Walters’ house this afternoon. The box he left for you was easy enough to find. His notes are all in code, but there were some other things that might be more helpful right away, like his thoughts on what we should do next and pictures of Helen and her family. His granddaughter looks like she’s about our age. I can see her diktats in the picture.”

  I don’t know why, but despite knowing the year Mr. Walter’s granddaughter was born, I kept picturing her as a little child. Maybe thinking of her as completely helpless makes it easier to think of dying to save her life. I shake off that thought, telling myself it won’t come to that.

  “Did you ask Casey about decoding Mr. Walters’ notes?” I ask. Casey is so patient and steady. She’s the perfect one to handle it.

  “She’s already working on it. I’ll let you know if she finds anything.”

  “Thank you, Milo,” I say, “thank you for taking care of everything there. And thanks for making me come here. I needed the time to think.”

  I can almost feel the burning questions in his silence. He’s dying to know, to ask about Braden and what I’m planning to do. There’s little chance he thinks I’ve forgotten about him. I wonder if he realizes I plan to rescue Braden at the same time I go for the Ciphers. The millions of questions I know must be dancing around in his head don’t come tumbling out. He stows them away for later and gets back to the task at hand. Milo has worked so hard for the Ciphers. A few days ago he told me they were more important than us right now, but that we would have our chance to be together with no other distractions. I wonder now if he still hopes that day will come as much as I do.

  “Now, let’s talk about this plan of yours. Lance wouldn’t explain it. He said I needed to hear it from you, which sounds to me like I’m not going to like it very much,” Milo says grumpily.

  Oh, he’s going to like it. All it takes is one word to bring the smile back into his voice.

  “Naturalism.”

  Chapter 5

  Invincible

  My grin spreads wide as I stare back at Captain Blackwood. I allow myself half a second to enjoy him realizing I’ve just played him for a fool. The yelling, the demands, the false naiveté of the last few minutes, it was all a big act. I even kind of warned him when I offered him the possibility that I was fooling Braden about me. I was, and am, truly terrified of being here, but I never expected him to honor our deal. So I came prepared.

  Panic flickers in Blackwood’s eyes, but I’ve already tapped my Naturalism. The whole group flinches when my balled up fists suddenly snap open. The gesture means nothing. It does distract them enough to keep them from reacting, though. The marble floor they’re standing on suddenly melts into goo. Screams bounce through the room as they are sucked down. A couple of them manage to think clearly enough to try laying themselves out flat to slow their sinking. The quickest one only gets his knee back out of the mess before I reverse everything.

  Marble solidifies with a stunning crack.

  A few broken bones may have contributed to the sound. That’s how I broke my ankle last year, anyway. Anguish and fury call out at me from the circle of trapped Guardians. Blackwood is by far the loudest, and most trapped. Somehow, he has ended up with both hands stuck inside the marble as well as being buried up to his hips. Being built like a linebacker tends to be a drawback when you’re standing on virtual quicksand.

  I walk across the only portion of the floor whose pattern isn’t completely distorted by my trap. My heeled boots—which I wore particularly for the nice, dramatic sound they would make—snap along with me. I stop right in front of Blackwood. His heaving body is bent in unwilling supplication before me. That makes me smile even more. He can’t look me in the eye with how he’s pinned, but he glares as hard as he can at my kneecaps. I can see the veins in his neck and head pulsating to a frantic beat, flushing his skin scarlet. His whole head looks like a cherry tomato. Many of the other Guardians who aren’t white with pain look similarly upset. I don’t bother with anyone but Blackwood.

  Squatting down in front of him, I press my finger under his chin and force his head up painfully until he is meeting my eyes fully, if not squarely. A seething desire to see his hands around my neck burns in his eyes. Maybe one day he’ll see his wish come true, but it won’t be today.

  “You aren’t nearly as smart as you think you are, Blackwood,” I tell him.

  His jaw grinds together so hard I can hear the squeal of his teeth. “You haven’t won, yet. I’ll never tell you where they are.”

  “I already know where the Ciphers are.”

  Blackwood scoffs at me. Part of me wonders whether he even knows where they are. He’s not a Seeker, but I bet he wishes he was. Something tells me he knows much more about the secretive group than he should. Someone as driven and devoid of conscience as him wouldn’t let information like that stay hidden for long. No, he definitely knows where the Ciphers are, whether he’s supposed to or not. He is the ranking Guardian of this compound, after all. I suppose he would have to know where the prison cells are. I doubt he’s ever been down there, though.

  “Fourth subfloor, right? Take a left at the bottom of the stairs?” I say, making his eyes bug in disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You Guardians aren’t as good at keeping secrets as you think you are. And neither are Seekers.”

  I add that last part just to see his reaction.

  The breath he sucks in and holds make his veins throb even harder. Fear works its way into his furious expression. He knows. He knows exactly who the Seekers are, and now he’s trying to figure out how I could have possibly gotten a secret out of a Seeker. And maybe he’s wondering just how much it hurt. My smile turns wicked, just to see him shrink back a little more. Sometimes fear can be a good thing.

  But I’ve had enough of Blackwood.

  I stand and turn my back on him, making it perfectly clear exactly how little I am worried about him getting to me now, and pull out my cell phone. Milo answers right away. Our conversation doesn’t last long. He’s too eager to get in here. I slip the phone back in my pocket and turn back toward the doors. Reaching them will take some careful stepping. If I cared about not hurting anyone, that is. I don’t. I stomp through the encased Guardians stepping on more than one pair of fingers and accidently kicking a few more as I walk by. I fling the doors open for Milo and the others.

  Lance was left behind on this one, too, because of the risk of the Seekers seeing him approaching. He’s suffering through another boring school day, hating it no doubt. My phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last few minutes. I don’t have time to stop and answer his texts right now. I’ll get to him when I know everyone is safe. Milo powers up the stairs looking grave and excited at the same time. It’s an odd combination. All of that falters when he gets a look at the lobby. The others, Dean, Daniel (despite being an old guy), Hammond, the only renegade Cipher not killed during the first rescue, and Kayla, another impressive Cipher from Canada, all pile into the room. Not a one of them are any more careful than I was as they tromp forward.

  “Dang, Libby, you said you could do it, but I have to admit I doub
ted,” Dean says. “Commanding nature like that takes some serious Naturalism. My Uncle was pretty awesome with manipulating stuff like that, but he could only warp a small patch of material even at his best. You did the entire floor. Where’d you learn how to do that?”

  “My mom. She did this same thing to me, once.” I don’t care to expound any further to Dean. He doesn’t push me. Kayla and Hammond do look at me questioningly. There’s no point trying to explain my mother’s many horrible qualities, so I don’t.

  Milo steps over next to me, his hand coming up to grip my shoulder excitedly. He leans in, and says, “That is pretty impressive. And for the record, I never doubted.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure, but you wouldn’t let me come alone, would you?”

  “I said I didn’t doubt, not that I was stupid,” he says with a fierce smile. “Come on, let’s get this done.”

  Blackwood starts yelling threats and profanities at me, but I ignore him pretty easily. Daniel is assigned to stay and keep an eye on them while the rest of us head for the holding cells below. After checking the building scanners to make sure there aren’t any other Guardians waiting to pounce on us, we turn to the elevator. The rest of the building appears to be empty, although sublevel four only gave a sketchy reading. Must have something to do with the talent interference down there. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.

  All five of us pile into the elevator. Milo’s hand reaches over to me, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s not trying to hold my hand. He’s giving me a gun. The cold metal of the Glock startles me as he presses it into my hand. I glance around and realize I’m the only one who doesn’t already have one. Maybe it should stay that way. I look back at Milo pleadingly.

  “You won’t have your talents down there, Libby. I told you we’d figure something else out,” Milo says.

  “I’ve never shot a gun before,” I say quietly. Somebody snickers behind me. I don’t know whether it was Dean, the Texan, or one of the mountain-bred Canadians, but I ignore all three of them. “Milo, I don’t want it. Take it back.”

  He shakes his head, but he does reach for the gun. I try to shove it back in his hands, but he only turns it over to show me something. “This is your safety,” he says, pointing at a small switch. “Keep it on unless you really think you need to shoot. Then just point and squeeze the trigger. You’ll be fine.”

  When he pushes it back into my hands, I hold it away from my body like it might bite me. I’m not against guns, necessarily, I just know myself. I didn’t end up with thirteen broken bones because things always work out well for me. Accidents and outright terrible choices follow me around constantly. I’m more likely to shoot myself than any Seeker trying to kill me.

  The elevator chimes and stops. My hands tighten around the gun’s grip reflexively as the door slides open. The Guardians are egotistical enough to pull every member of the compound up to greet me, but Blackwood isn’t that stupid. At least, I don’t think so. There has to be somebody down here keeping an eye on the Ciphers.

  Milo takes the lead looking oddly comfortable with a pistol in hand. I’ve never seen him hold, let alone shoot a gun before. Apparently this isn’t the first time. He holds it in front of him and steps forward with heavy movements that tell me he is already being affected by the interference. On him, it isn’t an unfamiliar look. I knew Milo before I unlocked his talents, and remember very well how he used to move. Plus, even with Speed and Strength, Milo is not the most graceful person in the world. He’s nothing like Braden when it comes to that.

  Dean urges me forward, bringing my thoughts back to what we’re doing, and I step out of the elevator cautiously. The subtle lessening of all my talents scares me. I can feel my mind and body dulling with each step. My identity, my purpose, is stripped away from me the deeper I go into the prison. Milo keeps moving steadily, but I’m having a hard time keeping up. Hope that I’m not the only one struggling makes me glance back at Dean and the others. Dean has had his talents the longest of the three. The scowl on his face shows how hard he has to concentrate. Kayla and Hammond actually look more chipper than they did before coming down here. But this is normal for them. They both look to be somewhere in their mid-thirties. They’ve lived without talents all their lives up until yesterday. They look almost relieved to be rid of the onslaught of new sensations and information.

  I’m so absorbed in the strangeness of this place that I almost don’t see Milo hold up his fist. I skid to a stop before running into the back of him. We’re at the end of the hallway. The talent-stealing affects are even worse here. I can feel them pulling at me from around the corners.

  “Dean, you take Hammond and Kayla left. Libby and I will go right. Stay together. Shoot anything that resists,” Milo says.

  He’s taking over again, but I really don’t care at the moment. Heck, he’s good at it. And I’m too busy trying to shake off the feeling of my life force being sucked out of me to argue with him. I’m not even sure I can pull the trigger of the gun in my hand like this. I feel so incredibly weak, and it’s only going to get worse the farther in we go. When Milo steps forward, I try not to be a baby and shield myself with his bulk.

  We make it to the end of the next hallway, passing several innocuous holding cells, without incident. I feel horrible, but my body doesn’t actually seem to be having any noticeable trouble. That gives me hope. I grip the Glock more steadily and step to the other side of the hallway when we come to another fork. We step out at the same time, backs to one another, and I find nothing. My heart rate slows back down, and I turn back to ask Milo which way he wants to go. The man standing in front of him with a gun pointed at his head makes me gasp.

  My first reaction is to tap my talents. The sputtering grumble of nothing snaps me back to reality.

  “Drop your weapon,” the Seeker demands.

  “Don’t do it,” Milo says.

  “I’ll shoot him if you don’t.” The hard set of his body makes it clear just how serious he is. I’ve been trying to learn more about healing with Naturalism from Milo’s dad. It’s one of the hardest things to do with that talent. I’ve gotten fairly good at the basics of first aid, but getting shot at point blank range, not even me at my full power and all the knowledge in the world could do anything about that.

  My fingers uncurl from the grip and fan out in a peaceful gesture. The Seeker’s eyes narrow. He suspects some kind of trick, but what am I going to do down here that he won’t be able to dodge or stop? Throw it at him? That’ll go over well. He’s not exempt from the interference, but he looks very well trained. I start bending down, lowering my gun to the floor carefully. My eyes never leave his, but my thoughts are frantically searching for something to do. He doesn’t have any talents, either. That’s the purpose of this place. But like Milo said, if that was all they were focusing on when they designed it, chances are they overlooked something a person could exploit when they’re without talents. What, though?

  I almost jump in surprise when my knee touches the floor. My slight pause causes the Seeker to inch forward, closer to Milo. Even Milo tenses, then. The Seeker’s left foot twitches, a balance check he wouldn’t have needed to make with his talents in place. It’s a tiny movement, but it reminds me of something, two somethings, actually.

  “I’m putting the gun down,” I say calmly. “Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

  He watches me. He doesn’t trust me even a little bit. That’s fine. He shouldn’t. Steel clicks against the tiled floor as the tip of my gun makes contact. I slide the body of it onto the floor as well. The gun is down, but I don’t move to stand back up yet. He doesn’t trust me. Well, the feeling is mutual. For a moment, we stare at each other, judging the other one’s honesty. That’s what he’s doing, anyway. I already know he’ll shoot Milo if I give him the chance. I’m simply keeping his eyes off what my left hand is doing. I just pray Milo isn’t ticklish on his ankles.

  My hand is in place when the Seeker finally breaks eye contact with me. “Stand
up!” he demands. “Back away from the weapon.”

  Just like endurance, reflexes aren’t completely linked to Speed and Strength.

  My hand rips the knife off Milo’s ankle and flings it straight into the Seeker’s thigh. His right leg crumples immediately, throwing him to the ground. The pain makes him drop his gun. It clatters to the floor and I kick it away from him a second later. Milo has him pinned to the ground before I get my foot back on the floor. The small knife wasn’t big enough to do any real damage, but the shock and sting of its bite is enough. A small trickle of blood dribbles onto the floor as the Seeker glares at me. He’s not the only one who was surprised. Milo looks back at me with a disbelieving grin.

  “They may be strong, but they aren’t invincible,” I say.

  “Apparently not,” Milo says as he flips the Seeker onto his stomach. The zip ties he pulls out of his back pocket secure his prisoner with his hands and feet behind his back, then bound to each other in a reverse fetal position. Breathing isn’t going to be easy, and escaping will be difficult even for someone with dulled Strength. Milo yanks his knife out of the guy’s leg and snaps it toward his throat. Caught off guard, I barely grab his hand in time to stop him from drawing the blade back.

  “Milo, what are you doing?”

  He stares at me like I have just asked him the stupidest question he’s ever heard. “We can’t leave him alive. He might come after us.”

  I gestured at the contorted figure on the ground. “He’s not going anywhere any time soon. Just leave him.”

  “But, Libby …”

  “Come on, we don’t have that much time, just leave him.”

  Milo’s expression darkens as he sheaths his knife. “At least let me gag him so he doesn’t yell for help.”

  I gesture for him to go ahead. I step around the Guardian and the puddle of blood forming around his thigh where I hit him. I look away from him, glad the other something I remembered right after reminding myself of the knife Milo keeps in his ankle sheath was that Guardians think they’re above wearing body armor. That knowledge would have been even better with a gun, but Milo’s knife worked, too. He keeps several knives on his person, actually. I’m just glad I was on the right side of him to grab it.