Page 32 of The Chosen Son

The automatic doors gave a whoosh to admit us, and a security guard sitting behind a desk shouted, “Hey, you can’t park there!”

“This’ll just take a minute, but feel free to tow it if you feel the need,” Phobos said, waving a hand over his shoulder as we continued to the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

Heads turned to watch our progress, staff and patients, their curious gazes following us all the way to the elevator. I heard someone say, “Hey, isn’t that the guy from that billboard?”

Unease and confusion pushed aside my anger. “Um… are you sure about this?” I asked Phobos as the elevator gave a ding, its doors opening. “Who did you say gave you that tip?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Phobos said. “The tip came through the new 1-800 number you set up to take calls. Why would they call if something wasn’t going down?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because it’s a trap?” I sniped, heavy on the sarcasm.

There was an elderly man ahead of us, shuffling with a walker. I stuck my hand in the door to hold it open while Phobos gave the senior a hand. The man gave a quirk of his brow at Phobos’s flashy attire. “Areyou here to cheer up the kids?” he asked once the doors had closed and the elevator whisked us up, on our way to labor and delivery.

“Well, we’re here to save children, so I suppose that’s something for them to be happy about.”

“That’s not what he meant,” I muttered under my breath, but Phobos chose not to acknowledge me. I peeked at him in the reflection of the mirrored doors from where he stood on the other side of the stranger, but he stared straight ahead. The door opened at three more floors on the way up, the elevator slowly filling with people, and we shuffled around to make room. One woman yelped when a spark jumped from my skin, shocking her lightly. “Sorry,” I mumbled, shrugging shyly, but everyone eyed me warily and tried to give me some space. When it was finally our floor, we had to jostle awkwardly through to the front, and Phobos’s cape nearly got caught in the doors.

We emerged on an empty hallway, and the elevator closed behind us, leaving us in relative silence. Phobos huffed out a breath through his nose, smoothing out his cape. “You know, when I imagined being a superhero, there was a lot more glamor. This is all so… mundane.”

“Yes, which is why this feels so wrong.” I looked up and down the hall, unease making my skin crawl. “There were no police outside, no one’s screaming or crying.” I listened for anything out of the ordinary, but it was the silence itself that seemed out of place. “Where is everybody?”

Phobos let his cape drop and tilted his head, listening to something I couldn’t hear. “This way,” he said softly, gesturing down the hall. His boots squeaked a little on the tile, and I was tempted to shush him.

A hunched figure crossed the end of the hall, a swaddled bundle in his arms. He froze when he caught sight of us, and Phobos shouted, “Zeek! You stop right there, you little urchin!”

The urchin in question did not, in fact, stop. He bolted, and Phobos and I were in fast pursuit. When we reached the end of the hall, though, we heard babies crying in both directions. “Shit. We need to split up. I’ll go this way, you go that way. Call if you find my brother.”

“But what if—” I began to say that this was obviously a trap and we should stick together, but he was already gone, chasing after Zeek, his boots squeaking the whole way.

Grumbling to myself, I did as he’d asked and headed the other direction. I followed the reedy wail of an infant, peeking through the open doors as I went. Every room was empty—no parents, no staff. The beds were made, and the place smelled freshly of hospital-grade cleaning products.

I groaned, rubbing my palms together. My skin was nearly crackling with the charge that had built up, and without a way to expend it, I was worried about the long-term effects it might have on my health. Why was I risking it? “This is so pointless,” I grumbled to myself, peeking around the corner. The crying was getting louder, but I still hadn’t seen anyone. Taking a chance, I called, “Hello? Anyone?”

The crying continued unbroken, the plaintive cry reaching a pitch that tugged at my heart. I closed my eyes and forced myself to slow my breathing. I felt queasy, the world spinning around me, and while my thoughts were murky, one certainty emerged from the turmoil—Deimos wasn’t here to hurt anyone. Phobos seemed so quick to believe the worst of his brother, but from what little I knew of him, I didn’t think he was such a bad guy. Misguided, maybe. Mischievous, absolutely. But evil? No.

The question was, was I willing to bet my life on it?

I opened my eyes, determination clearing my vision. “Fuck this,” I growled through gritted teeth. I pushed off the wall and came stomping around the corner. “Deimos, get your ass out here.”

No surprise, he didn’t come out, the coward. So instead, I headed straight toward the crying baby. Something had to be making them cry. There was a door toward the end of the hall, cracked open just enough to show the light was on, a sliver of white linoleum and light green wall.

I didn’t even hesitate when I got there, just shoved the door open and stalked in, drawing my power into my left hand in a ball of crackling energy. A cold sweat broke out across my face. It was almost too much for me to maintain, but I gave everything I had to keeping it leashed. I didn’t want to hurt the child.

I thought I’d been prepared for anything. For Deimos and his minions to be holding the newborn hostage, for a sneak attack or an epic battle to the death. But what I hadn’t expected was… nothing.

It was just an empty room. One window, two beds with privacy curtains drawn back, two bedside tables, a couple chairs. No Deimos, and more importantly, no baby.

The crying immediately cut out, leaving a silence that seemed to brush against my skin. My pulse was rushing in my ears, my panting breath sawing in and out of my chest as I looked back and forth. Was I supposed to get down on my knees and check under the beds?

But then the reality hit home like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I was right—it was a trap, and I’d just walked straight into it.

“Phob—” I began to shout as I spun toward the door, only to find the doorway blocked by a looming figure.

Deimos’s lips curved in a seductive smirk. “No hard feelings,” he said with a casual shrug, so at odds with the panic tearing through me.

I frowned. “What?” That was all I had to say before he brought his hand out in a sweeping arc, a delicate golden net draping over me. It was so soft and light that it felt like spiderweb silk. When I tried to pull it off, however, it seemed to adhere to my skin, tightening withsurprising strength. The surprise had me losing concentration, and the control I’d had over my power slipped. A spark jumped off my skin, and the current coursed through the net’s material, adding to its durability in some way, multiplying my own power and reflecting it back at me. The delicate strands cut into me, searing my flesh.

“Deimos, it burns!” I yelled, dropping to my knees.

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