Page 93 of All Saints Day
Right now I am riding at the very top of the wave, soon to come crashing down.
While I don't quite understand the finer details, I know my ability to get us all out safely won't last forever.
“All of you, get behind me,” I command, my voice strange and alien to my own ears, like a chorus of many people speaking at once—both beautiful and terrible.
I can tell by the look on Sébastien's face that despite my demonstration, he is still reluctant to allow me to lead the way out.
It isn't until I catch my reflection in a nearby shard of glass that I realize my body armor and a good portion of my clothing has simply been incinerated or melted away—the glowing prismatic light encasing me as I lead the others back through the hallways and toward the front door.
“I'd say now's a good time to get old party Marty to call in the cavalry!” Frank shouts to Quentin and Dennis as we make our way down the hall.
Almost as if they are knocking on the very walls of my consciousness, I can hear the others kept in captivity as we pass down the hall.
I run my fingers along the cool, blood-spattered walls of the corridor, whispering to every tumbler in each and every lock—telling their secrets, twisting my fingers as if I were spinning silk into thread; Ariadne stringing a path out of the labyrinth.
As the Saints and I emerge into the empty lobby strewn with bodies, a cacophony of alarms sound into the hollow space once I allow the locks on the cell doors to spring open.
“The Windmill will have plenty to keep them busy until the authorities arrive, but we should get a move on,” I explain calmly, eager to depart before we might make our introductions to Frank’s erstwhile roommates.
Caz lets out a strangled scream as a pack of Windmill goons in body armor with automatic weapons explode from the front entrance, fanning out before us.
They seem slow and sluggish as they begin to shower us in a hail of gunfire.
With a languid flourish, I spread my hands—watching the bullets make lazy ripples in the air as they buzz toward us like sleepy bumblebees.
As if caught in nets of golden amber, they become frozen in the air before my raised palms, then drop to the ground with a gentle tinkling sound.
Before the minions can let out another salvo, I reach my hands into the air—feeling the flimsy outlines of their assault rifles with my mind before I bring both palms together in a single loud clap—all of their weapons fly from their hands and smash together in a jagged pancake of slag in the air above their heads.
I allow the faceless men in body armor and night vision goggles to watch the crag of metal hit the ground and decide if they want to stay or if they want to run for their lives.
All of them scramble away, out into the night.
I look at the wall of heavy metal and glass doors; freedom and the cool night air waiting just on the other side.
I reach out with my mind, the fragile metal and glass just likethe delicate white fluffy seeds of a dandelion waiting to be scattered by the wind.
I lift a hand to my mouth, the heel of my palm pressed to my pursed lips, and gently blow a puff of air, making a wish as if I were scattering seeds on the playground as a child. The doors cave in before exploding outward in a loud groaning of metal, and the high sharp sounds of breaking glass.
I step forward the moment I realize my combat boots are one of the items that did not survive my transformation.
I feel a hot burning sensation as razor-sharp glass punctures the soles of my feet.
I watch, nauseated but also bewildered, as my foot rejects the pieces of glass, the wounds quickly closing. Morbidly curious—I step on the glass again, but this time I can tell that my healing factor is less complete; the shards push themselves out of my flesh without being able to fully close the wounds again.
Soon, the wave will recede—and I will be left without this power… for I don’t know how long. Possibly forever.
Before I can take another step, Frank is at my side.
Wordlessly, he sweeps me into his arms—and carries me out over the broken glass, into the night, beneath the cloud-muted stars.
Chapter 35
Quentin
It’s was all over, finally.
Well, not entirelyover. There was the matter of Louise’s new powers and what Seb and Azzura would discover as her new designation: Omicron.
