Total Eclipse

“David told me,” I said. “But I don’t know how to find him. Do you?”

“No need to find him. He’ll come to you, soon enough.” She nibbled her chocolate bar and selected other things from the machine—M&M candies, a Twix bar, some kind of cookies. She tossed those to each of us. Weirdly, I’d been craving M&M’s, and the smack of that yellow packet in my hand felt like manna from heaven. I ripped it open, popped two peanut candies in my mouth, and chewed. The rush of sweet/salty grounded me a little more, made me feel just a touch better.

“So we wait?”

“Yes,” Rahel said. “I’ll keep watch. Perhaps you should shower.” She emphasized that with a sniff and a pained expression. “If I’m trapped here with you, sistah, you can at least not reek of blood and sweat.”

I almost, almost smiled, but I didn’t think I had that particular expression in me at the moment. Rahel didn’t wait for a response. She walked past us to lean against the doorway to the lobby, peering out with infinite patience as she nibbled down the candy bar.

I looked at David. “You going to be all right for a few minutes?”

He nodded. “Be careful.”

“Trust me, nothing is going to stand between me and that shower right now. I’d shoot Gandhi and Mother Teresa both to get to it. That’s literal. Because I have a gun.”

I kissed him and felt him respond, just a little. He wasn’t that bad off. “Be careful,” he said again.

I stood up. Luis and Cassiel were huddled together, talking in low voices, but they looked up when I cleared my throat. “Shower,” I said. “See ya.”

Selfish, I know, but at least Rahel had reinforced my obsession with getting clean. I ducked into the staff shower area. Lockers were mostly empty, although a few employees had left behind bath products and—in some cases—magazines of questionable taste. I grabbed a selection of shampoos and conditioners, and a still-clean towel, and I dumped my filthy clothes into the sink to soak with some liquid soap on board. Even the rough wash I’d given my shirt back at the nuclear plant hadn’t held up well.

The water was on, but—no surprise—cold. I yelped in surprise when the icy drops hit me, but the sensation of water around me was so breathtakingly good that I ignored the temporary discomfort. I used a little candle flame of power to heat the water locally, and that was even better. It took three shampoos of my hair to get all the dried blood and grit out of it, but by the time I’d finished I felt, once again, clean and whole. I shut off the water, dried myself, and went back to where I’d left my clothes in the sink.

They weren’t there. The sink was empty and dry.

I wasn’t alone in here.

“You should burn those,” said a voice from the shadows, outside of the reach of the thin light trickling in the door from the other room. “They really don’t suit you.”

Ashan. I pulled in a breath to yell, but my vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed. I couldn’t even get out a squeak. I saw him now, materializing out of the shadows, perfectly manicured, with that faintly contemptuous expression that never seemed to leave his face. He looked like every terrible boss I’d ever had, and every bad boyfriend, too.

Except for the white eyes. Those weren’t like anybody I’d ever known at all.

“It’s over,” he said. “And you owe me pain, Joanne Baldwin.”

I needed to scream. I needed to move, but my whole body seemed to be frozen now, and all I could do was watch as he paced forward, confident and steady as a panther.

He was in no hurry, and it seemed to take forever before he was standing in front of me. I realized that there was someone else in the shadows—the avatar, left abandoned like a defective toy. His eyes, too, had gone white.

Ashan closed his hand around my arm, and my towel disappeared in a flash of heat around me. For a second I thought he wanted me naked—and that was particularly sickening—but no, he just wanted me clothed. I’ll say this for Ashan: the bastard is cold and brutal, but he does understand fashion. The clothes that settled on my skin were tailored, understated, and more or less what I would have picked, if I’d been able.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. “I just don’t want you to imagine I have any use at all for your flesh. Humanity serves no purpose to me except as . . . fertilizer.” He smiled, a thin razor-cut of his lips. “There’ll be a rich growing season for years to come, in the silence that follows this day. And we have you to thank for it. You and my imposter brother.”

I wasn’t sure which I hated more—the sad, resigned distance of my daughter about the loss of the human race, or the lip-smacking delight of Ashan. No, I was sure; Ashan, for the win.

I’m going to kill you, I thought, and I hoped he really could read minds after all. I’m going to smash you until there aren’t two aetheric particles sticking together with your name on them. I’m going to stop you.

It was about as effective as a rabbit’s scream in the jaws of a wolf, but I was going to have attitude to the end. What else did I have?

I had power.

His blackout of the aetheric had distracted me, and so had his special guest appearance in my shower, but I could still pull power. I had to pull power, even though the whole area seemed resistant to it.

I filled myself with Earth power, and reached out for the metal pole behind him. With one swift pull, I yanked it out of the tiled floor, bent it, and slammed it into his back. There was no pointy end. I wanted it to hurt.

He jerked and looked down at the hollow metal pole—about three inches in diameter—sticking out of his chest. A human would have bled, but Ashan never bothered with genuine human flesh and blood, so it was really more of a shell—a particularly convincing plastic doll. It probably hadn’t hurt him, but it had really fucked up the line of his expensively tailored suit, which did my heart good.

I pulled the pole out of him before he could get a grip on it, remove it, and beat me dead with it.

It obviously hadn’t hurt him much, but that was okay, because the pole was a distraction, and I hit him with my second attack, which was a vicious piledriver of wind that focused on that hole I’d made in Ashan, from front to back. The wind forced itself into him, and I increased the pressure to insane levels. Ashan’s white eyes widened. I suddenly found myself back in possession of my voice.

“Bye now,” I said, and with a brutal burst of Weather powers, I blew him to pieces. His scream was short- lived, but very satisfying, and then he was a misty after-image on the air, and I blew that back to hell where it belonged.

I hadn’t killed him, but I’d definitely hurt him that time. The fact that he didn’t re-form and come after me was proof of that.

David hit the door at a run and skidded to a halt, staring at me.

“One second,” I said. “I have something to do.”

I walked out to the other room and began yanking open cabinets until I found a bottle of some kind of coffee flavoring. I dumped its contents out and walked back to the shower area. By then, David had oriented on the remaining threat: the avatar, who was still standing frozen in the shadows.

“Sorry,” I said to him, “but we can’t let you run around loose. You’re too much of a wild card.” I held out the open bottle. “Be thou bound to my service. Be thou bound to my service. Be thou bound to my service.”

Nothing happened. I frowned at him, then at the bottle. Yep, it was empty, and open. I shook it, which was a stupid thing to do, but to no effect. I tried again, reciting the words thrice.

The damn thing just stood there.

“It won’t work,” David said. “There’s nothing in him to capture. He has no soul. He’s just a vessel—his body is already an empty bottle, in a way.” He sounded ragged, but sure of what he was saying.

“So what do we do with him?”

“Kill him,” he said, very softly. “The avatar is physical. It can die.”

There was something really unpleasant about that idea, and I didn’t care to examine it too closely. “Can’t we—I don’t know, evict Mommie Dearest from the avatar?”

“No. We either leave it here, where it can strike at us any time she wants, or we kill it. But there’s no other choice, Jo.”