Blood of the Masked God (Book 1): Red Wrath Page 4

  I hadn’t thought it was still in me to feel such an ache in my heart. My eyes stung and I fought back tears. I’d thought I had burned all of them away long ago.

  “Strongarm was a big guy,” I said. “With his armor, he must have weighed four hundred pounds. My folks died on the scene, along with a jogger who had stopped next to us. But Chronos—once Strongarm was down—just floated there in the air above us, staring. Then he landed and was swarmed by everyone. They said he saved them. They kept saying it, and the cops who showed up said it too. And none of the reports described what really happened.”

  “You tried to tell people what you saw?”

  I nodded. “No one believed a fifteen-year-old girl. I was panicked and scared and had to have been mistaken. Besides, what was my word against the Star Son’s? He even tried to talk to me later when the ambulances came, but by then I was numb with shock. There wasn’t enough of my mom and dad left to identify. They had to take my word it was them.”

  After a moment he said, “That’s just awful. Who took care of you?”

  “My mom’s brother gave me a place to live for a few years, until I finished high school. My folks didn’t have much, but the money from their estate helped ease things over with my uncle. He didn’t have much either. And when I was able to move out, I did. And now I find you and your file on Chronos. Why?”

  Carter got up and tottered to his desktop computer. A few keystrokes unlocked it and he opened an app. Two maps appeared on the twin monitor along with a series of red, yellow, and green dots. One was of the city, the other the eastern United States. I abandoned my earlier caution. If Carter was going to grab me and call the cops, so be it. I was curious.

  “This is Chronos’s activity in the past six months,” Carter said. “I’ve been collecting data on all the New York metahumans, but none are as interesting as him.” He clicked a key. More dots appeared. “Twelve months of activity.” Another click. More dots. “Twenty-four. And here’s thirty-six.” He continued until a swarm of colors clustered around New York City, with many more around the state and the greater Northeast, along with a few outliers as far west as Pittsburgh and as far east as the waters off Nova Scotia. The target of the tracker was labeled Subject A.

  “You are obsessed,” I said.

  “It’s my wife Eden,” Carter said. “I lost her on a Christmas Eve while we were in traffic uptown.”

  “The Nickel/Maid of Honor fight five years ago? That happened on a Christmas Eve.”

  His jaw set. “Yes. While Chronos wasn’t directly involved when it started, Nickel’s only reason for being in town was to draw him out into some kind of revenge fight.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” I said. “He and Chronos seem to tangle every year or so. But Maid of Honor showed up first. Strong, fast, can fly while Nickel can only jump.”

  “If they had stayed in Central Park, fewer people would have gotten hurt. But Nickel figured Chronos wouldn’t show unless there was a body count. And Maid of Honor couldn’t put a dent in him.”

  “She almost died trying,” I said. I knew the story well. I knew all the stories but was less organized in collecting them.

  “Then you remember Chronos caught up with Nickel that night and they finally had it out. But in the meantime Nickel killed twenty people. We were trapped in a car that Nickel used as a projectile while fighting Maid of Honor.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “There’s only so much that airbags and crumple zones can do when a car is thrown like that. My wife’s seatbelt held, but the bolts holding down her chair didn’t. When the car pancaked on its roof, she got crushed. I only fractured my skull and broke both arms.”

  “You could have died too,” I said lamely.

  He already knew that. I had read dozens of stories like his. Survivors. And I knew there were plenty of folks who hated all the supers and the evil they churned up. But the support groups and anti-hero activists were a waste of time, sequestered to their own cozy corners of social media outlets like any other extremist groups with distasteful viewpoints. Venting their spleens in private while they scurried about their little lives in the shadows of the gods.

  No one wanted to do anything that might impede our heroes from stopping threats the police couldn’t handle. So vigilantes with powers were tolerated, venerated, and forgiven by the masses.

  But not by me.

  “So I shouldn’t call this an obsession,” I said. “What do I call it?”

  “I don’t know,” Carter said. He turned in his chair to face me. “It’s embarrassing. I’m powerless to do much more than keep track of him whenever he appears. I’ve tried therapy, and it helped for a while right after Eden’s murder. But the helplessness I keep feeling every time Chronos or another superhero shows up and more innocents are killed is overwhelming. Our lives mean so little to them. Maybe some of the anti-hero legislation will do something. They’ll be regulated, at least.”

  “That hasn’t happened with guns. You really think anyone’s going to get a bill through Congress that outlaws a superhero flying around town fighting crime? They shake their fist one day and thank the hero the next.”

  “I want to believe Chronos is doing more good than harm,” Carter said. “But every way I look at it, I come to the same conclusion.”

  I nodded. “The world would be a safer place if he were off the scene. Carter, I have something I want to talk to you about that I’ve never told anyone before. What if there was a chance Chronos could actually be killed?”

  He was listening.

  Chapter Six

  We talked. Or mostly I did. I never went far enough as to let Carter know exactly what I’d been up to, but I shared with him all my conclusions about Chronos and the fact that I believed he could be hurt with a powerful enough bullet.

  “He’s been shot a dozen times,” Carter pointed out.

  “Yeah, but not with a high-powered rifle round. Pistols and shotguns, sure. But most missed him because he’s fast. I have a couple of pictures where I’ve been able to zoom in. Chronos bleeds.”

  “That’s not new information.”

  “It’s not. But reports will make it sound like only someone with super strength can actually hurt him. But a little over a year ago there was that gang shoot-out in Jersey. Chronos showed up and someone tagged him from behind while he was distracted. I have the picture.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  Keeping up my poker face, I said, “First, I’d like you to show me everything you have.”

  Carter looked me over as if trying to reach a decision. “You’re not just humoring me?”

  “I’m as serious as a heart attack.”

  So Carter got into the nitty-gritty of his Chronos data set. I knew I was obsessed with the hero, but the level of detail Carter had collected was astounding. He had information from airport surveillance radar, security cameras, traffic reports, and thousands of accounts from civilian eyewitnesses, including fishermen, pilots, and even astronomers at several observatories. When Chronos was out and about someone always saw his comings and goings and reported it in a forum, in the comment section of a website, or on social media. Every time Chronos made an appearance, Carter spread his virtual net wide and recorded what he found.

  His phone lit up again. I handed it to him after quickly scanning it and seeing it was once again Megan.

  Tell me you’re okay or I call the Marines, the text read.

  “She’s persistent,” I said.

  “It’s my sister. She worries about me.” He tapped a reply and put the phone down.

  I yawned. It was so late it was early. “So what does all this data do for you?”

  He leaned away from the computer and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have a second step outlined yet. Maybe I never will. Right now all this is just information.”

  “It’s amazing. A bit anal. But beyond anything I’ve ever managed. When I hear about anything where he might show up, I head straight there to watch. But I come up s
hort when it comes to an actual plan.”

  “I was always afraid to see him in person. That might make all of this too real. Right now it’s nothing more than a hobby.”

  “A weird hobby.”

  He shrugged.

  “But what if you could see him again?” I asked. “That might get you out of your funk and we can figure out what else to do. I don’t know if there is a next step beyond monitoring him. But you’re smart. Go out with me tomorrow. We might get lucky and spot him.”

  Just like that, we had plans for a second date.

  ***

  Carter was kind enough to drive me home. He had a nice car, a Mercedes, the type of vehicle where the bells and whistles alone probably cost more than my net worth. I set my alarm for three hours. Not enough sleep, to be sure, but my early morning exercise routine wasn’t optional.

  My night held an unexpected detour.

  I didn’t normally dream, but the nightmare that came in those few hours of slumber was a doozy.

  The world was ending. The sky shone red. Burning rocks fell from the sky and cities fell and oceans rose. It was one overpowering image after another, and I was helpless to do anything but stand my ground as the disaster engulfed me. It was a white-knuckle ride, and I rode out the apocalypse unwilling—or unable—to scream.

  The dream faded into the sound of my phone alarm going off like a klaxon on a sinking ship.

  My body was damp with sweat. It took a moment to get my bearings and my head swam as I sat up too fast. I pulled on my sports bra and sweats and went downstairs to the basement level of my building. My heavy bag was hung up in the laundry room, as the manager and I got along well enough, at least up until my recent delinquency on rent.

  I beat the crap out of the bag. When my hands and shoulders started to ache, I took my jump rope and did a thousand count, the steady whip of the rope never faltering in its pace. The pipes of the building made noise as toilets and showers above me did their thing. I heard muffled echoes of voices, some in English, some Spanish, and then there was Portuguese. A family of Brazilians lived just below my studio, and the three kids were well-practiced resistance fighters when it came time to get dressed for school.

  My heart hammered from the exertion and my face felt hot. I headed upstairs. Along the way I passed the dad of the boisterous family dressed in his carpenter jeans and white T-shirt. He held a tool belt loaded with tools and a lunch bag.

  “Hey Rufino,” I said.

  He offered a wan smile as he tromped down the steps.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Headache. Bad night,” he said in his thick accent. “Me and Gabriela. The kids too.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Something you ate?”

  “Maybe. We all had bad dreams.” He crossed himself, kissed his thumb, and pointed upward. “Maybe we just forgot to say enough prayers before sleep.”

  I watched him leave. The stress of the world was getting to everyone.

  Once back in my apartment, I got ready for my second date with Carter. My food situation hadn’t improved. The prospects for rent weren’t much better. But I had a yoga class later and the gym would cut me a check today for the week. If the manager gave me some wiggle room I might just squeak by.

  Which meant I had a free morning where I could show Carter the ropes of how to stalk a superhero.

  More than likely, date two would make him want to get away from me as quickly as possible. The previous night had been a fluke. And that would be fine. I worked well alone, always had. I also entertained the possibility the cops would pick me up as he pieced together what had happened to him. At least I wasn’t dumb enough to tell him where I lived and he didn’t have my real name. Our arrangement was for him to pick me up on a street corner nearby. And he still didn’t have my phone number.

  His black Mercedes was waiting for me. I took a moment and watched the street for anyone who might be lying in wait. But after a few minutes I decided the police weren’t waiting to bust me and the coast was clear.

  “Good morning,” I said as I climbed in the car.

  He had coffee and a bagel waiting for me in the cupholder.

  “Good morning, Jade. This would be easier if I could have texted you I was coming.”

  “Yeah. We’re not there yet.”

  “You’ve been to my place. You know everything about me.”

  “We’re crossing the bridge to Manhattan,” I said, ignoring his complaint.

  He nodded and put the car into drive. Traffic was at a crawl but we made it onto the Brooklyn Bridge. My stomach growled noisily, but I didn’t touch the bagel or coffee, even though it smelled heavenly.

  With my eyes on my police scanner app, I said, “Most things happen downtown. I usually find someplace to park and wait and listen.”

  “Okay. Kind of like a stakeout.”

  “Exactly. It didn’t take me long to get on the scene with yesterday’s robbery. I saw Slingshot and Jill Frost go at it, and I caught a glimpse of Chronos, but there was too much traffic and I didn’t get close.”

  “What would you have done if you could?”

  I let the question hang. I was scrolling through the morning incidents. Traffic accidents mostly. Someone had been assaulted at a bar. But no riots, no bank robberies, and no supervillains. Carter drove us in silence the rest of the commute. I gave him directions where to go.

  “Okay,” I said once we crawled into the financial district. “Let’s park someplace here.”

  After rounding a few blocks, he found a spot on the street in a yellow zone and put his hazard lights on.

  “That’ll attract attention,” I said.

  “From who?” Carter asked. “Last time I checked no one was after me. And we’re just another car full of commuters dropping off their riders.”

  As if to make his point, a traffic cop drove right past us. I felt skittish. But there was no reason to panic. It wasn’t like I had a rifle in my lap.

  “You haven’t touched your bagel,” Carter said.

  “I don’t normally eat breakfast.”

  He took my bagel and bit into it. With a napkin, he wiped cream cheese from his mouth. Then he sipped the coffee.

  “It’s still warm,” he said. “And it’s not laced with anything.”

  I felt my face go red. “Why would it be?”

  “It shouldn’t be, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, like it did to me last night.”

  I busied myself with the app, looking up the radio codes on a few reports.

  “You have nothing to say?” he asked. “Jade, I’m not stupid. But I had more than a couple of drinks worth of alcohol in me. Maybe you slipped me something, I don’t know. Was it a drug? I could have had a reaction. I could have fallen and broken my neck.”

  “So what?” I asked. “Are you going to call the cops on me? You don’t have any proof.”

  “I’m not looking to bust you. If I was, I wouldn’t have shown you everything that I have on Chronos. And I want to know what you know about him. That’s why I’m here. Because if you’ve figured something out or have some sort of lead, it’s worth everything to me to take a shot at stopping him.”

  He was watching me, waiting for a response. Finally I said, “I was planning on robbing you. That’s it. I poured some extra vodka into your drink while you got me napkins. I was going to take your credit card and ATM card. Make a few bucks so I can cover rent.”

  “You don’t have a job?”

  “I do,” I said, scrolling through a few new radio calls. “I teach fitness training. But I miss a lot of work doing this.”

  “And what’s the plan if he shows up?”

  I studied Carter carefully. “I was planning on shooting him.”

  ***

  We changed locations a half dozen times, with nothing showing on the scanner. I finally broke down and ate the bagel. When 11:30 rolled around, Carter’s sister Megan began texting him again.

  “It’s nice to have someone care about you tha
t much,” I said as he tapped out a reply.

  “We also work together. I told her I would work from home, which I never do except when I’m sick. Now she wants to come by and check on me.”

  I tried to catch a view of his phone screen. “Does she know about your obsession?”

  “She knows a little. She’s also the one who insisted I go find a date. And by insisted, I mean practically threatened me with violence if I spent another weekend at home.”

  “So it’s her fault we met.”

  He hit send. “She maneuvered me right into the hands of a predator.”

  “I’m not that bad.”

  “Tell it to the judge. How many other people have you robbed?”

  I sighed. “You would have been my fourth.”

  “I was your fourth except you couldn’t steal anything from me.”

  “The day is still young.”

  Noon rolled around with no activity. The morning was a bust. We didn’t talk as he drove me back home, but I had him park near my apartment and come up. Once inside, I showed him my rifle.

  “It’s big,” was his only comment. He examined it without getting too close and appeared afraid to touch it.

  “Big and expensive. I need to practice more.” I got out my box of bullets. “Tungsten carbide. It’ll punch through just about anything. Chronos can bleed—we’ve seen that. So it’s just a matter of hitting him with something that’s super dense and packs a punch.”

  “And what makes you think this will produce a different result from the other times he’s been shot?” Carter asked.

  “Again, he’s never been hit by anything as big as this. Pistol rounds, shotguns, and a few explosions are it. He’s been hit by lots of weird weapons too, and cars, and plenty of fists. But the amount of force one of these bullets can deliver is pretty amazing.”

  Carter removed a bullet from the box and held it up to the window before putting it back. “I don’t know anything about guns. I just can’t imagine that anything so mundane will even scratch him.”