But Nick had regained its attention. The statue turned and looked down at him, and its cold steel eyes seemed to recognize its original prey.
It swung the sword at him. Nick dodged back as the blade blasted tiles and furrowed into the concrete foundation. He took another step back, then another, and the Paladin followed him. Looking beyond it, Nick saw the bear limp around a corner and disappear into the darkness.
Nick didn’t have a Plan B, but hey, if he bought it now, at least he’d go down fighting. No quit, no white flag. That had to count for something. And he’d saved the bear. That seemed important, in the moment.
Nick hobbled back a few more steps, out of the showers and into the locker room. The Paladin kept coming. Then Nick’s back jammed into the metal countertop in front of the equipment cage.
Nick’s last resolve collapsed, too spent and broken down to make another move.
“Okay,” said Nick. “Okay.” He tapped his heart twice and held up his right hand. “Love you, Pops.”
The Paladin stopped right in front of him. Studied him. Sword in one hand, hatchet in the other. Then it raised them both. Nick closed his eyes.
Nothing happened. Except that Nick felt a weird little tickle around his back and arms.
He heard a sound and thought of the waves off Marblehead in the middle of a nor’easter that he’d seen once with his dad. He’d never forgotten that deep, rumbling ocean drumbeat. That same sound was coming from somewhere behind him now, rushing at him like one of those massive gray combers.
He opened his eyes.
The Paladin stood frozen in place, weapons raised above him just as Nick had last seen it. But it was struggling fiercely, almost imperceptibly, in the grip of what looked like thousands of tendrils shooting out from behind Nick.
Nick dropped to the floor and dragged himself off to the side, then turned to look.
Thin ropy strands of what looked like putty-colored string wriggled through the painted white cage, through every small diamond-shaped gap across the whole broad face of its middle section. Tendrils extending out and wrapping around every square inch of the statue. They moved in concert, like a nest of a thousand snakes. Nick watched in amazement as they wove themselves around the Paladin until it was completely covered and gradually, finally, helplessly unable to budge.
Nick looked past the tendrils into the darkness behind the cage. He got an impression of a huge, indistinct quivery mass pressed against the other side of the steel and he knew that ocean roar was issuing from this thing. Something in the middle of it glowed the color of blood.
Like an eye. Like the eye of some giant freakin’ octopus.
The metal of the statue groaned as the tendrils squeezed relentlessly tighter. Then something yielded inside it with a sound that reminded Nick of a breaking bass guitar string. All at once, the tendrils released the statue and retreated through the air, waving gently like sea grass.
The sword and hatchet dropped to the ground. Something soft and black dropped out of the Paladin’s right heel and melted to ooze on the floor. The statue cracked and shattered, crumpling to the ground in a dozen pieces.
Nick felt wooziness wash through him and knew he was about to black out. He watched, mesmerized, as the mass of wandering tendrils lifted something down to him, but he didn’t feel afraid. He realized what it was and knew what it was for and struggled to stay awake long enough to use it.
The tendrils gently held the receiver of the equipment cage’s black phone against his ear. As he watched, another cluster of tendrils flowed around the base of the phone and pressed the C in the center of the enamel button.
Nick heard the operator answer.
“Dr. Robbins, please,” he said, shocked at how calm he sounded.
While he waited for the operator to find her, Nick’s eyes drifted to the gate in the steel cage just to the side of the counter.
Bizarre. I never noticed that before.
The lock is on the outside.
OceanofPDF.com
THE BOATHOUSE
The foul smell brought him around, then voices getting gradually louder, as if he were emerging from a tunnel.
“What should we do with him?” someone asked.
“Wait,” said the filtered voice of the Paladin. “Wait for it to imprint on him. It works better that way.”
Will was careful not to move so they wouldn’t know he’d come around. He was lying on his side on the wood plank floor of the boathouse attic. They’d secured his wrists behind his back with one of his own plastic ties and connected them to his ankles; his legs were bent back uncomfortably. His whole body ached from the Taser charge. His mask had slipped, covering his eyes so he couldn’t see a thing.
He summoned his sensory grid. Two Knights stood over him along with the tall, stooped figure of the Paladin. Brooke was in the next room, still bound to a chair. The horrible smell was coming from a thermos-sized black container resting on the floor less than a foot from Will’s face.
Will felt energy flowing from the vile thing moving inside the container and knew it was a Ride Along, somehow “tuning” into him, getting ready to merge. He moved his hand down a few inches to the Swiss Army knife he’d tucked into the back of his boot.
“What about her?” asked one of the masks.
“She’s going to watch,” said the Paladin. “One last chance to come to her senses, or she’ll get one, too. Bring her in before I open it.”
Will heard boots scuffle into the next room. He flipped the knife into position between both hands, flicked open a blade, and with as little motion as possible started sawing at the ties. The plastic started giving way; he needed ten more seconds—
Then a voice slid into his thoughts: “Are you upstairs?”
Elise. At first it made no sense. Then it made all the sense in the world.
Will tossed out the net of his senses and let it filter down through the building until he found her one floor below, just inside the front door.
“Yes,” he answered.
Will heard the Knights head back his way, dragging Brooke with them.
The first tie snapped under the blade. He moved to the second—
“Stand back while I break the seal,” said the Paladin. He reached down to open the black canister. The creature inside rustled in anticipation.
Will heard footsteps running up the stairs: Elise charging hard. He could see her shape flowing through space, growing brighter and stronger, filling with some kind of vibrant power.
The walkie-talkie in Will’s pocket crackled, and he heard Ajay’s voice, low and urgent: “Will. Cover your ears.”
Two of the Knights rushed to the stairs: “Who’s there?” Another reacted to the walkie-talkie: “What was that?”
Will cut the final tie, clamped his hands to his ears, and called out, “Brooke, cover your ears!”
A wave of energy burst through the doorway. Will’s first impression: a single note encompassing every known frequency, above and below the range of human hearing. Then the note exploded throughout the enclosed attic space like a sonic boom. Even with his hands pressed tightly against his ears, Will felt as if a howitzer had gone off beside his head.
The windows blew out, the planks beneath him rippled, and at the center of this gash in the surface of things he saw Elise standing at the top of the stairs, jaws wide open, arms spread, palms up, her body a field of wild energy, the epicenter of this concussive shock wave.
And it all made sense to him: Elise had talents, too. And she was Awake.
Crouching near the porch, Ajay had waited exactly a minute, like Elise had told him to, his eyes glued to his watch. “Will. Cover your ears,” he said into his walkie-talkie.
He’d taken two steps forward before it occurred to him: Oh, dear, I should probably cover mine as well.