Dark Hunter (21 page)

“I will find you.” The sibilant voice sounded as if it was close to her ear. “I will make you suffer to show others that dissent among the Council will not be tolerated.”

Chromosome smiled to herself. If only he knew that half the Council was ready to rebel against him.

“I suspected betrayal from the inner sanctum. Did you think I was foolish enough not to flush out conspiracies
from my empire?” So that was how Necros saw the Council of Evil? His own
personal
empire?

Necros started circling the shuttle fleet, stooping to glance underneath the craft. “Of course, you will be expecting your coconspirators to come rushing in to save you. Because what better time to take me out than now? But I have to tell you, that is not likely to happen.” Necros laughed, which sounded more like tortured souls wailing. “That is because you have
no
coconspirators, Chromosome. They were waiting to betray you.”

Chromosome's pulse quickened as anger flared inside her. Surely he was just playing for time and making this up to provoke her.

“Nameless conspirators who could trust nobody to reveal their identities to … except perhaps the one person they were supposed to be assassinating. Oh yes, they came to me. All on their own, not knowing who else among the Council to trust. Knowing who the conspirators were, I could focus my suspicions on those who
had not
stepped forward.”

Chromosome gripped the flight stick. She wanted to scream. And then she wanted to kill those who had betrayed her. They had planned to double-cross her—expose her at the crucial point so that
she
would be the one killed. The devious coconspirators had found a way to eliminate one of their own, which would curry favor
with Necros and ensure their position in the Council. No doubt those who were in on the conspiracy were being paid substantial amounts of cash by wannabe Council members. Cash for honor, an old staple throughout history.

But now, that meant the Council of Evil would turn against Chromosome. In this time of escalating war against the Hero Foundation, they would have to crush anyone threatening to topple them. Alone, she was no match for the seven other powerful Council members. But… with Hunter by her side, there would be no stopping her.

Her cell phone, no bigger than a watch face, vibrated on her belt. She glanced at the message and finally found something to smile about.

Ernie had predicted Psych's location.

Using the Council shuttle would be pointless now as they could easily track her. Instead she teleported out of the hangar.

Jake was out of breath by the time he had climbed up all the steps of the tower block. He stopped close to the top and collected himself. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, and he knew that he needed to plug into Villain.net to recharge or he would collapse. He had sneaked back across the railway line, making sure he wasn't spotted by the Enforcer patrols that
were combing the construction site searching for both him and Scuffer.

Jake walked out onto the balcony and approached the open front door. He could hear voices in the apartment and raised his hand as he stepped inside.

Sandra Sinclair was standing in the living room beyond the door, chatting to an Enforcer who had a mug of coffee in his hand. He looked surprised as Jake threw a fireball straight at him. It was only small, that was all Jake had left, but it hit the coffee mug. The Enforcer fell, knocked out by the small explosion that slammed the mug against his head.

The woman gasped and backed away—falling onto her sofa, arms raised and a look of terror across her face.

“Please! Don't kill me! They showed up first!”

Jake had nothing left. He was seriously worried he wouldn't be able to teleport back to his lair. If Sinclair threw a pillow at him right now, he would probably fall to the floor. Jake recalled the skills he had amassed as a bully; fear and intimidation were art forms.

“Don't make me mad. You really won't like me when I'm mad.”

“W-what do you want?”

“If you want to live, tell me where I can find your old boyfriend. Tell me where Psych is.”

Sinclair's eyes looked frantically around, and what little color she had in her cheeks vanished completely.

“I don't know! It's been a few years since we last talked!”

Jake felt his stomach clench. He had been robbed of his final destination.

Psych was still beyond his reach.

Jake was slumped on the massive four-poster bed in his new home. He had managed to teleport back to the castle. Appearing in the tower, he collapsed in front of the televisions.

When he woke, he found that Igor had carried him to the bedroom and plugged him into Villain.net. The genetically modified superpowers pumped through his system and revived him.

The television was playing endless news programs, all reporting on how major cities across the world had deployed their military in an attempt to stop the terrorist attacks—in reality a superhuman crime spree. He noticed that even the news reporters were referring to villains' names, but claiming that they were names of gangs.

He watched shaky news camera footage of a blazing dockland in Chicago. A single figure, who Jake knew from trolling Villain.net was named Wildfire, was hurling
tongues of flame to incinerate the buildings. Reporters claimed that he was using a flamethrower. Since that was more believable than the fact that he was clearly throwing fire from his fingers, the public seemed to be swallowing it. The same was true of the “gang” attacks in Paris. The television showed footage of villains clinging to the side of the Eiffel Tower, having obviously flown there. The reporters stressed that thugs had climbed the tower, and the camera cut the moment the villains launched themselves off. Obviously the press were now in on the global conspiracy of super-silence. When he saw out-of-focus camera footage of the Statue of Liberty toppling over he closed his eyes.

He thought about Sandra Sinclair, the Hooded Harrier. He had managed to instill fear in her, and it had made him feel awful. How had he ever enjoyed being a bully? Seeing the older woman cower in terror had made him feel like a coward. He had tried to relax slightly and tried to be more friendly and reassuring. But the damage had been done. If Sinclair had any powers left she did not display them—she was just a scared ex-hero.

Jake had noticed that the apartment was filled with photographs of the Justice Federation. The Hooded Harrier had been very attractive back then, with long flame-red hair and a confident smile. Jake's eyes had bored into the picture of Psych.

Quivering with fear, Sinclair admitted she and Psych had remained pen pals for a while, but that had petered out. The only assistance she could give him was that Psych had moved to Australia. In his last letter, he mentioned opening a bar there.

Now, Jake climbed out of bed and paced around the empty castle. It was dark outside, and the snow piled against the window did little to raise his spirits. He stared at the crystalline statue of Chameleon.

“This is all your fault!”

He punched the frozen hero in frustration. The statue rocked, tilting at an angle against the wall. He raised a fist to strike the statue again but faltered. It was achieving nothing.

Australia. Jake knew it was a huge place. Finding out that Psych was there hadn't made his quest any easier.

Igor entered the room, rapping hard on the door for attention. Jake's rumbling stomach expected to see food, but Igor was empty-handed.

“What is it?”

Jake suddenly remembered that his butler was mute, so he gestured with his hands. Then he stopped and silently berated himself—he was
mute
not
deaf
. He waited patiently as Igor crossed over to the huge television screen that dominated the room and selected a channel. Jake was surprised to see that it was broadcasting the Presidential Shield.

Then the image changed to that of the president sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office. He talked straight to the camera.

“This is a message for the one they call the Hunter, broadcast on a secure channel. Even though we're unsure of your location, I'm certain this will find its way to you. We are living in an ever-shifting world. Friends become enemies. Enemies become friends. By kidnapping me you declared war on the United States, and that is not something I look lightly upon.” The president shifted in his seat and cast a glance at a photograph of his family on the desk. “But you then had a change of heart and went on to save my life—from a danger that you placed me in, admittedly, but you voluntarily chose to reunite me and my team with our families. I know the pain you are feeling now, Hunter, the sense of loss. That is why I am granting you a presidential favor. At the end of this transmission is a data file. It contains the combined resources of the CIA and NSA—everything you need to find Psych.”

The president smiled. “We
normals
do have access to information beyond what the Council and Foundation have. I trust your intentions remain honorable and you do not intend to harm him. You have my word that there will be no Enforcers or heroes waiting to trap you. Please know—I do this to return the favor you
granted me. But after this is over you remain an enemy of both this country … and me. Consider this a temporary suspension in hostilities.”

The image faded and was replaced with a rapid burst of high-pitched noises and rapidly flashing images that the castle's computers immediately translated into surveillance photographs, maps, and addresses.

Jake felt a wave of elation. This unexpected twist of fate was everything he needed. He was going to find Psych!

Jake inhaled deeply as he appeared among a knot of trees in Hyde Park, Sydney, Australia. He had always dreamed of having a beach house here and felt oddly closer to realizing his ambitions, although that was probably because he was close to finding Psych. The files had told him that the hero was now using his real name of Fred Hardcastle.

It was a warm summer day, and the heat made Jake's skin tingle, although Igor had applied sunblock. The problem with his photosensitive skin was something he would have to address before he moved here. He chased the thought from his mind, though—he was here to find Psych.

Jake left the park on foot and crossed the busy Macquarie Street as he headed into the financial district
of the city. Huge skyscrapers loomed above him, looking modern and sleek. Here the streets were in almost permanent shadow and he felt relaxed as he followed the map in his hand.

Psych owned a bar located in the maze of skyscrapers that catered to executives and business types. Jake stopped at a street corner and stared at the luxury glass facade of the aptly named “Justice Bar.”

He started to cross the street, but stopped as his phone rang. It was Lorna. Jake hesitated; he wanted to answer but the excitement of finishing his quest was too much. He ignored it and crossed over—just as the entire front of the bar exploded in a black cloud and a lethal hail of glass. Jake's head spun in confusion as glass showered around him, bouncing off his fully energized shield.

Then he saw Psych. He was lying in the middle of the street, cut and bruised as flames shot from his bar. Other than that, he hadn't changed much from Sinclair's photographs. Cars skidded around him—but an approaching bus, swerving around a chunk of flaming wreckage, headed directly for him.

Jake jumped between the bus and Psych and held up his hands. The bus skidded sideways toward him and he could see the panicked faces of its passengers—then it suddenly stopped as it ran into Jake's invisible shield, robbed of its momentum inches from flattening him.

He ran over to Psych and helped him up.

“Are you okay?”

The man's wide eyes swiveled from Jake to his ruined bar—just as Chromosome stepped out from the smoke. She registered surprise when she saw Jake, but she quickly recovered.

“Come to see your little friend die? How sweet.” The words were as cold as steel, and as she spoke her Legion scurried forward.

Jake stepped in front of Psych and fired dozens of tennis-ball-sized fireballs into the crawling mass. The Legion split, avoiding the shots. Jake backed away as they surrounded him.

“We have already established that you can't defeat me,” said Chromosome with a smile. “But I'm so sentimental that I will offer you a deal.”

“I'm not bargaining with you,” Jake spat out. He flamed two of the Legion that had raced forward with slender scorpion tails waving. The pseudo-creatures were flipped onto their backs, legs pumping as they burned.

“Dear Hunter, always so headstrong. Perhaps by working together we can both get what we want?”

“You double-crossed me once. Never again.”

Jake lunged forward as though he were pushing an invisible wall. The air buckled as a telekinetic blast pounded into Chromosome, hurling her back into the blazing bar.

Jake grabbed Psych's arm and forced him to run as the Legion darted in pursuit.

“Can you fly?”

Psych hesitated before answering. “Yes … just a little bit though.”

“Up!” Jake commanded. They soared into the air together, Psych lagging behind as they banked between skyscrapers. Jake zigzagged through the smoked glass avenues as they gained altitude. He couldn't see Chromosome following, and he noticed that Psych was struggling.

Jake doubled back and helped him land on the roof edge of a diamond-shaped building. From here they had a clear view northward across the wide harbor. The famous Sydney Harbour Bridge was to the left, the sail-like domes of the Opera House to the right. He noticed that a military tank sat next to the Opera House and several armed soldiers patrolled among the crowds of tourists. Jake remembered that every country was on high alert with the growing disturbances, and since the Statue of Liberty had been destroyed, the Australians were obviously protecting their national icons.