Tim

  Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.

  --Sun Tzu

  Kev’s plasma rifle is lined up perfectly with the center of Ghost’s chest, and if there’s any doubt a crimson laser sight appearing over her sternum clears it up instantly.

  “Planning to kill me?” Ghost asks him. “It’ll look good on your puppet resume. But you’re not a killer, Kev. Never were.”

  “You don’t know me.” His voice still has that rasp, but it sounds thicker already. Strained somehow.

  I hope Ghost knows what she’s doing. I hear the distant chatter of a machine gun outside, followed by a loud thump, but whatever fighting’s happening outside, it’s moving further away. Even if someone friendly came when I called, Kev could pull the trigger a dozen times before they could guess where the shouting is coming from. My Gift does not help with screaming for help.

  I slip sideways into the shadows and move fast, as much out of his line of sight as I can. He’s a good 30-feet away and Ghost is up the entry/exit ramp without so much as a moped for cover. Kev, though, is standing by a red sedan in a line of vehicles, his rifle held casually in one hand.

  Which I assume normally is incredibly stupid, but it’s safe to say he wouldn’t do it unless he can fire accurately like that without breaking his wrist from the kick or something. Which means he probably has Enhanced strength and maybe accuracy. As well as the fire.

  And who knows what else.

  Twenty feet.

  I edge fast along the descending concrete wall, then duck below the cover of the cars, scrambling the long way around, but moving much faster now that he can’t lay eyes on me. My footfalls are naturally stealthy, even ignoring my Fade and how my Gift clouds almost everyone’s perception. But the cars giving me cover are lengthening my trip, and I doubt I have more than seconds before Kev pulls the trigger.

  I round the sedan, staying low.

  Ten feet.

  Ghost is scratching the back of her white-cowled head.

  “Oh, I know you, Kev. You fought the programming. The hypnosis, the drugs, the conditioning. They never stamped out your core personality. And the guy you are still doesn’t want to pull that trigger.”

  “And the guy I am still doesn’t have a choice.” Kev draws in a breath, and I can see the slightest shake in his gun hand as the fire in the other flickers and dies. He draws another ragged breath, as if pulling in all his will.

  Five feet.

  “Goodbye, Ghost.”

  I lunge. He never sees me. He pulls the trigger just before I tackle him.

  The blinding golden bolt lashes out with explosive speed and force. And I can just see it reach Ghost as the man in my grasp explodes into flames.

  Ghost moves fast, but nothing human is fast enough to dodge that plasma fire. I see her slam back against the concrete as the pulse impacts.

  And then ricochets slightly to the side, crackling past her.

  A blade is in her hand, and golden lines of force, like the invisible ones around a magnet, flare into existence around her.

  Time seems to have somehow slowed, like I’m facing death. Probably because I can feel my hands, arms and chest burning as Kev goes up like a gasoline-soaked scarecrow. I flinch back but am alert enough to slam the rifle out of his hands with a palm strike that bruises my bones. And then I’m flinging myself away from him, yanking desperately at my hoody to get the burning cloth off my body before Kev lights me up again.

  I tear it free, tossing my jacket aside, but Kev turns towards me as I scramble backward.

  And white-hot flames engulf both his hands.

  And then the air between us is a river of fire, rushing forward to engulf me.

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  And I dart under the car next to us. Stop, drop and roll, echoes in my memory from some Kindergarten safety lesson. Well, I keep rolling as the gas tank of the sedan explodes.

  The river of flame subsides into nothing but a pair of burning fists. I can only guess Kev is looking for me, or rather my bones and ashes. But he’s lost line of sight on me, and I’m not going to give it back.

  I keep rolling until the heat is no longer like an open furnace, or even a campfire.

  “Missed me!” a cheerful voice calls out from Kev’s position, and I hear him shout.

  I peer through the rear windows of an SUV three spaces away and see Ghost pointing her little sword at Kev’s chest, an icy mist hissing from the blade in a freezing current of its own. He gasps and stumbles backward, the fire snuffing out in his hands as he covers his face and upper body with his arms.

  “I…” he gasps. I rush around the SUV in a sprint, knowing that if something goes wrong I’ll never get there in time.

  And then there’s another hiss and he howls. Ghost is holding a tiny cylindrical sprayer in her off hand, and has just spritzed her would-be killer. Kev stumbles back and she steps in, twirling a keychain in her hand as she looses the spray and switches to a tiny charm that looks like a golden bee.

  Kev waves one hand blindly, a flicker of flame wreathing it like a halo before Ghost’s swordpoint releases another icy hiss of gas. And his hand is instantly snuffed and rimed with frost.

  He throws a desperate but lucky punch just as I reach them, and I grab his searingly cold arm just before he can connect with her face.

  Ghost gives the slightest nod as she reaches out with her bee and touches its stinger to his neck. There’s a buzz and a crackle and the flash of a taser, and Kev goes limp.

  I keep hold of his arm and keep him from hitting the ground. He settles slowly, head lolling until Ghost catches it. We move together and settle him to the concrete floor.

  From outside I hear something like a small iron giant lumbering across the square… and the squelch as it’s buried under a giant pile of custard. At least that’s what it smells like, wafting in a second later.

  “Okay,” Ghost says with a wheeze. “Coming back up was definitely a mistake. If we’re not up to facing Kev…”

  “He seemed pretty tough,” I observe.

  “I agree,” Ghost answers. “But he’s one of the few who doesn’t want to kill me no matter how many times he’s ordered. And we still barely took him, even though he missed you entirely. If we run into anyone else…”

  “Then your life will be short and your death slow,” a hard man’s voice says above us.

  I look up sharply, already spooked. Another guy about Kev’s age is coming down the entry ramp, paying no attention to the sound of muffled explosions behind him. He’s tall, tan, muscular, and his arms are covered in tattoos. Nonsense symbols that seem somehow familiar.

  I blink and glance away as my knees grown weak and my vision swims. And I notice Ghost eyeing me before turning to the newcomer.

  “Escalante,” she says. “You tried before and left running for your life. You sure you want to try again?”

  He raises a hilt with a silvery guard and a blade of nearly transparent white energy winks into existence upon it.

  “As if I have a choice,” he says grimly. He walks swiftly down the ramp, keen blue eyes taking in everything.

  Except – possibly – me.

  I notice Ghost is already backpedaling and I follow, but a few paces to her left, clinging to the cover of the vehicles and stepping carefully over scattered parts and still-smoldering embers. Kev left quite a mess.

  A white ball the size of a baseball is in Ghost’s hand and strange sigils seem to flare to life around it.

  “Remember this?” she asks the advancing Escalante.

  “Remembered and took precautions,” he says easily, sweeping his blade through the air in arc. As if loosening his muscles. His blue eyes now gleam a mirrorlike silver.

  I’m still unarmed, and assuming that glowing white blade isn’t simply an optical illusion, I have no idea of how to fight him. Especially if he can see me, but is too smart to show it. Assuming he knows he shouldn’t be able to see me in the first place.

  I shrug internally. Ghost probably saved me just now. I’m not going to let her die of my indecision. She’s younger than I am.

  We move together past the parked cars in this row to an empty section, and I edge to one side, dipping below the height of the last vehicle. So far, not being in their direct view seems to have helped when someone can see me.

  And aside from my invisibility, I don’t have many cards left to play.

  And just then, a hand of cards appears right in front of my face.

  Trump cards. Ones scrawled with faintly glowing runes.

  And suddenly my vision begins to swim in earnest.

  I try to follow the dark-gloved hand to the face of whoever’s holding them, but I find I cannot tear my vision away from the cards. The Hanged Man. The Magician. The High Priestess. The Empress. Death.

  “Shh,” a girl’s voice says quietly. “Time to rest…”

  I hear voices speaking in the distance, but I hear them as if from the bottom of a very deep well. Or a deeper dream.

  “And that takes care of your backup,” the guy’s voice is saying. He’s still moving forward. “Not quite Dante, is he?”

  “You don’t want to play this game, Escalante,” Ghost says, her voice suddenly hard as well. She’s still moving back to match Escalante’s advance.

  “Clearly, I do. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You’ve done well, but your race is run, Ghost.”

  “Oh?” she sounds amused. “I guess I won’t need this, then.” I hear a snap, like a ball being hurled fast, and Escalante shouts in answer.

  I sense a blur as he surges forward, but suddenly a dazzling white light fills my vision just as I hear a loud thunk right next to my head.

  The hand holding the cards drops them abruptly and I turn, my body once more my own.

  A stunning girl with mocha skin and brilliant green eyes stumbles away from me, her perfect features marred only by a bruise on her forehead. Ghost’s glowing white ball hovers almost directly between us, a shell of glowing runes encasing it.

  There’s no time to think. I sidestep, then sidekick, and my foot slams into the new girl’s stomach, propelling me away and her to the floor. I harness the momentum and turn my stumbling withdrawal into a charge straight for Escalante.

  Ghost dodges between two cars as he closes the space between them, and his blade slashes through plastic, glass and steel as though it isn’t even there.

  I see Ghost raising her own little sword and notice for the first time that its edge and point are completely blunted. A whistle of Arctic wind blows from it, but Escalante seems unaffected.

  He closes with a single step as Ghost backs into a wall and he raises his blade to strike.

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