Ultimate Warriors (42 page)

     
Burying
her head in her pillow, she screamed her frustration at the world. She couldn’t
even throw herself into crime fighting like before. Helping the world held no
appeal for her. She wasn’t much sure she liked the world right now.

     
"Let
them fend for themselves," she muttered in despondency.

     
Suddenly,
her maid unit switched on and walked over to the bed. Her eyes staring
straight, she said, "Pardon me, Miss. You have a call."

     
"Who?"
Quinlan sniffed. For a moment, she wished
it were Nikandros. Her heart sped ever so slightly at the faint hope. Oh, what
she would give to just hear his soothing voice!

     
"Henry
Thompson," said the maid. "Shall I answer?"

     
Quinlan
frowned. Henry had been calling almost every day for the last three weeks, ever
since news of Dr. Nathaniel’s wife surfaced in the papers. Dr. Nathaniel, out
of embarrassment, severed all ties with the woman and had moved out of the
district. Rumor had it that he was courting a new piece of eye-candy.

     
"Yes,"
Quinlan said. "But, no video feed."

     
"Quinlan?"
came
Henry’s voice. He sounded relieved. "What’s
happening? I can’t see you."

     
"I’m
not decent," she lied. "I just got out of the shower."

     
"Oh,"
he said, sounding mildly interested, before clearing his throat with a lower
sounding, "Oh, sorry.
Didn’t mean to disturb you."

     
Quinlan
gave a small laugh at that.

     
"Are
you all right?" he asked. "I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for
days."

     
"I
know, sorry," Quinlan answered. "I’ve been preoccupied. I didn’t feel
like talking to anyone and the reporters have been calling my house like
mad."

     
"I
can well imagine," said Henry.

     
Quinlan
just bet he could. She’d seen personal quotes from him in almost all the
papers.

     
"I
wanted to let you know that your father’s collection is a huge success,"
said Henry. "It is our most popular display to date."

     
"I’m
glad to hear it," Quinlan said. Her father would have liked that.

     
"Now,
about this formula business," said Henry. "Is it true?"

     
"No,"
answered Quinlan without hesitation. "My father was working on it when he
died. He said the properties were too unstable. The DNA mutations it caused
would liquefy anyone who tried to use it. The whole project was a failure. It
was my father’s only failure as a scientist. That is why I don’t want the
record of it released."

     
"I
understand," said Henry. He took her at her word. "As a leader in the
scientific community, I will tell everyone that his work wasn’t even started
into the field. Your father’s secret is safe with me."

     
"I
know, Henry," Quinlan said. "You’re a good friend."

     
"I
was hoping to be more," said Henry. There was
an
optimism
to his tone that she couldn’t ignore.

     
"I
know, Henry," repeated Quinlan softly, not encouraging him and not wanting
to hurt him. Deep down, under all his bluffing and posturing, he was a good
man.

     
"Well,"
said Henry, knowing his bid for a suitor was denied. "You can’t blame a
man for trying, can you, Quinlan?"

     
Quinlan
chuckled. "Good-bye, Henry."

     
"Bye.
I’ll check on you later."

     
"Hang
up," Quinlan said, turning over on her stomach. The maid unit disconnected
the call. With a sigh, she said to the unit, "Make it menu one
tonight."

     
Two
weeks after Henry called, Quinlan finally made it off her bed, away from her
bedroom, and out of her house--as far as the broken water fountain.

     
Looking
around the quiet garden, she sighed. She rested her head against the hard stone
of the fountain’s base as she stared up at the stars. Quinlan frowned at the
beautiful night. The old saying wasn’t true. Time did not heal all wounds.
Sometimes, time only made them worse.

     
"This
is no way for a superhero to act."

     
Quinlan
frowned, her head darting up at the noise to look around. She blinked to make
sure her vision was clear. She was alone.

     
"Hello?"
she called. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as if an endless
presence was around her. She could see nothing. "Is someone there?"

     
Quinlan’s
breath caught in her throat. Right before her eyes a man materialized out of
thin air. He was wearing a loose black shirt with a strange symbol on the
chest. His dark pants fit snugly to his legs. His long, blonde hair blew in the
wind as he watched her from the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Scurrying to her
feet, she stood, examining him through her awe. His gaze seemed to laugh
good-naturedly at her open-mouthed amazement.

     
"Who
are you?" she asked carefully. Her jaw hardened at his obvious humor. She
was in no mood for the company of cheerful people. "This is private
property. You can’t be here."

     
"I
am like you," the man answered her first question, ignoring her second.

     
"You’re
a woman beneath your clothes?" she asked, sarcastically.

     
"I
am gifted," he said. His body glimmered and he disappeared into thin air,
only to materialize by her side, his hand on her shoulders.

     
Quinlan
jumped, jerking away as if stung. "What do you want?"

     
"I
want to offer you a job," he answered.

     
"I’m
not interested," she dismissed immediately. "Now go away."

     
"That
is no way for a lady to treat a guest."

     
Quinlan
flinched as a woman materialized from a surrounding bush. Her chameleon body
mirrored her surroundings, making her move as if she were air. Slowly, her body
filled in with a pleasing peach color as she made herself known. She too wore a
matching black uniform.

     
"Who
are you?" Quinlan demanded. Her eyes shifted with purple, as she prepared
to fight them.

     
"So
it is true, Korbin" said the chameleon to the blue-eyed man at her side.

     
Korbin
nodded. His smile widened.

     
"They
are the Protectors," answered a third voice. Quinlan turned. A third man
walked up to her, his blue skin glimmering beneath silver flowing robes. His
white hair parted down the center and hung nearly to his feet. Blinking,
Quinlan saw that his eyes were so light a blue they were nearly white.
"And I am the oracle who guides them."

     
Quinlan
glanced at the man and woman at her side. They bowed before the oracle. Quinlan
nodded her head in suit, but as she did so, she took a hesitant step away from
them.

     
"How
many of you are there?" she asked, looking around in fright.

     
"Show
yourselves
," ordered the oracle.

     
Quinlan
tensed. It was like superheroes rained from the sky. All of them were
different--some coming from behind trees, some appearing from thin air, some
running in a blur to join the group. When nearly twenty of them were before
her, their eyes shining, their bodies all clad in black uniforms, she gasped.

     
"What
are you doing here?" she demanded, worried.

     
The
group stood to watch as Korbin moved to face her. "It is as I said. We
come to offer you a place within our family."

     
"But,
you don’t know me," Quinlan said. "You...?"

     
"We
know of you," said the oracle. "I have looked into the future and
have seen the possibility of your deeds. I have looked into your past and have
seen what you have done, never asking for praise or reward. The only thing
clouded is your present. You have a choice to make."

     
"Choice?"
she asked, her strength leaving her as she grew weary. "What choice?"

     
"You
can continue to pine for your lost love," said the oracle. His eyes
shifted to complete white as he read her. "Or you can become an immortal,
dedicating your years into doing that which you have already begun--helping the
world be rid of evil forces."

     
"There
is a battle," explained Korbin. "It’s good against evil. We’d like
you to join us. Help us keep the scales tipped for the side of good. It is what
your father was working on when he died. It is what he intended his formula to
be used for."

     
Quinlan
began to shake her head, wishing she could deny their words. She could read the
truth in their eyes, feel it in her. To become an immortal would mean she’d
spend an eternity of her years longing for something she could never
have--Nikandros.

     
"Yes,
Silk
," said the oracle. "It will not be an
easy task. You will lose much. You will sacrifice many things. The years will
eat at you until you no longer know why you do it. But, in the end, you will
make a difference. You’re father’s gift to you will not have been in
vain."

     
Quinlan
swallowed.

     
"The
moon wanes, Silk," said the oracle. "I need an answer. We will not
ask you this again."

     
Quinlan
looked around her. They were offering her an endless lifetime of serving
others, of living alone as she did now. Seeing their faces, she knew she’d have
them as her family. But, they were strangers. She started to shake her head,
but something deep inside her stopped her. She thought of her father. She could
not let his last scientific discovery go to waste.

     
"Yes,"
she said. Without Nikandros, she didn’t have anything else to live for anyway.

     
The
oracle smiled. "Come to me."

     
She
stepped forward, glancing nervously around.

     
The oracle
placed a blue hand on her cheek. His eyes darkened in their blue. "I give
you the gift."

     
Quinlan
tensed. He leaned over to kiss her and a soft mist drew out of his lips, coming
inside her. She felt her limbs strengthen with a great force. She felt the
knowledge of old being passed into her, teaching her of her duty, forcing an
oath of loyalty from her mind. His lips were soft and passionless against her.
She closed her eyes to his brightness. In the next instant, the lips were gone.

     
Quinlan
blinked. The yard was empty.

     
"Welcome,"
came
a voice from behind her.

     
Quinlan
jolted, turning to look at Korbin. He was the only one left with her. She
swallowed, a little frightened by what had just happened.

     
"What
now?" she whispered, feeling very strange.

     
Korbin
merely smiled, motioning over her shoulder as he disappeared into thin air.

     
Quinlan
turned. Her limbs shook as a soft mist began to travel over the yard. She held
very still, watching it gather as it drew before her. The mist rose, forming
into a man.

     
"Nick?"
she breathed, seeing his face. "What ... how?"

     
"Quinlan,"
he smiled, reaching for her.

     
Tears
entered her eyes and she backed away. "You can’t be here, Nick. You have
to go."

     
"I
can’t be anywhere else," he whispered.

     
"What’s
going on? Who are you? What are you?" she demanded, shaking. This was all
too much. Her eyes took him in, telling her that he was very real. But she
couldn’t go to him. She was afraid he would disappear from her like a dream, as
he did every morning when she awoke.

     
"I
am an immortal," Nikandros said, his eyes slowly drifting to red as he
looked at her. "Nearly five hundred years ago I was born human, like the
others. My town was attacked by a vampire. I fought him and was bitten. Before
I turned, I killed him. The oracle found me and gave me the same choice he gave
you."