Legend of the Ir'Indicti 5 - Destroyer (30 page)

"Mr. Winkler, do you remember the old Ashe—before I got the drug?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"There's a new Ashe coming. I don't know how to explain it."

"Like Ashe, two-point-oh?" Winkler lifted an eyebrow.

"More like Ashe, nine-point-oh," Ashe muttered, staring at his hands. "Get ready."

"Ready for what?" Winkler asked, just as the beach house suffered a jolt.

"What the hell was that?" Trajan was on his feet, followed quickly by Winkler.

"Armageddon just started," Ashe's eyes were dark and filled with stars.

* * *

"What's happening?" Friesianna screamed, although her words sounded garbled and drawn out. Light bent and flickered about her crown, rendering her helpless.

Baltis shouted for Laridael as light and power flowed from his crown, crashing into that formed by Friesianna's coronet. Neither could move; they were held immobile, as were the ones surrounding them as each crown fought for supremacy.

"Open the gate," Friesianna shouted at Parlethis.

"I cannot move my hands," he wailed.

* * *

"Hurricane-force storms are forming across the Eastern Seaboard," the meteorologist announced on the ten o'clock news. "Earthquakes are occurring in the Pacific northwest, South America, and Japan. Tsunami warnings are going out across the globe. Six storms have formed off the coast of Africa in the past two hours, moving at incredible speeds into the Atlantic. Rain is falling in record amounts in Great Britain. Tornadoes are crossing the Midwest, leaving destruction and death in their wake. This is unprecedented, folks. Take emergency precautions if you live in the path of any of these storms or earthquakes."

"Jeez, kid, it's pouring outside." Winkler stood at the wide windows overlooking the deck, just as a rumble of thunder shook the beach house.

"Can you do anything about that?" Trajan, who sat near Ashe, asked.

"Not right now. Ashe nine-point-oh is still not ready."

"How much time is left? You can't do anything about this before that?" Winkler settled on the sofa again.

"I need power I don't have, yet. Things will get worse before I can do anything about this."

"That doesn't sound good," Trace sighed, flopping onto the sofa beside his brother. Sali, who'd settled on the floor to watch the news with the others, turned to Ashe in surprise.

* * *

Child?

Grandfather?
Ashe sat upright, waking from a sound sleep when the mindspeech came from Rabis.

The crowns are locked in battle, child, fighting for supremacy. Is there nothing you can do?

Not now. Wildrif managed to get somebody to give me a drug, and I'm still disabled. It'll take two days before I can do anything.

This is more than unfortunate. Wildrif deserves death for this.

Wildrif managed to convince a vampire to make him vampire. I think I can do something about that, at least.

He is making the turn? I will point my thought in that direction.

Grandfather, I've pointed my thought in that direction. Do you want me to come for you?

No, child, although I appreciate the offer. My father told me before his death that I must see this thing through. He said that you would come for me when I finally left the Bright race of my own accord.

Then I'll see you when that happens.

Yes, that is my sincerest wish. To see you then
.

* * *

"We can drive or you can take us. Your choice," Winkler told Ashe while he, Sali, Trace, Trajan and Marco waited for toaster waffles to pop up.

"It's still raining," Ashe sighed. "I'll take us."

"Good. We need to be in Star Cove around ten."

"I can do that." Ashe nodded

"Why don't we have a second toaster?" Trace moaned.

"I'll go get two. Give me a minute." Ashe disappeared, returning a few minutes later with two new toasters in boxes. "There. Now we can make six waffles at a time."

"Why didn't we think of this before?" Winkler pulled more boxes of toaster waffles out of the freezer. "Do we have enough syrup?"

* * *

"Hi, Mom." Ashe hugged his mother when she answered the doorbell.

"Come in," she waved all her visitors inside; the front porch wasn't large enough to hold everybody.
 
"It's so wet out. Is this weather usual for late August?" she asked as Winkler stepped inside.

"No, Adele. It's extremely unusual."

"Well, it came this morning, and thank goodness it arrived in a covered carrier," Adele had hands on her hips. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"We didn't say a word," Winkler grinned.

"About what?" Ashe and Sali said together.

"Come on, it's in the third stall in the garage."

* * *

Two Elemaiya, who'd thought to pull the Bright Queen and Dark King away were now dead. Friesianna and Baltis had stopped speaking; both were gripped in a paralysis created by their crowns. While they'd been yards apart in the beginning, their bodies were inching closer together while their subjects watched in horror.

Mindspeech had been sent to both camps, and Bright and Dark Elemaiya were appearing in a panic. They were aware that the Earth was in trouble and desired to leave it behind by going through the only gate they might use. All were dismayed to learn the gate wouldn't open, and then were terrified to see that the crowns were engaged in a terrible battle, the Bright Queen and Dark King helpless to stop it. While the weather, earthquakes and other natural disasters across the Earth increased, Kansas City had become the eye of the storm. All Elemaiya seemed caught in the vortex, with no way to escape its impending wrath.

* * *

"This is causing the problems." Curtis Roberts tossed a photograph on the President's desk. "Go ahead, ask Mr. Michaels over there, if the boy didn't create that earthquake in Canada."

Curtis had finally gotten what he'd been asking for—a meeting with the President. The circumstances couldn't have been less ideal.

"Matthew, is this true?" The President lifted the photograph—a close-up of Ashe from the British Embassy raid, and turned questioning eyes on Matt.

"He didn't do it to harm anyone. He did that to help. Something else is creating chaos out there." Matt angrily flung out an arm.

"The boy is an alien. You know that. He's out to destroy the world if we don't stop him," Curtis pressed his point. "He's one of the creatures who slaughtered those children and anyone else who got in their way. We have to stop this now, if we expect to survive."

"And just what do you propose we do?" The President asked.

"Kill him," Curtis snapped. "The only way we can."

"Are you crazy?" Matt shouted at Curtis.

* * *

"Wow," Sali breathed, running a hand along the fins of the red, vintage Cadillac. "Ashe, this is awesome. Just like we always wanted." The top had been folded back, revealing the cream interior of the vehicle. The leather was in pristine condition.

"Yeah." Ashe's arms were crossed over his chest as he examined the car. "This is exactly what I wanted."

"I'd say take it for a drive, but you don't want to go out in that storm," Winkler said. "Save it for a sunny day."

"At least sit in the driver's seat, just to see what it feels like," Sali coaxed.

"Yeah." Ashe opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. Sighing, he placed both hands on the wheel and everything shifted.

* * *

"What am I doing here?" Ashe studied himself in the dim, metallic reflection of a hotel's elevator doors.

What you are supposed to do, while I Change What Was
, filtered into his mind. It was a woman's voice.

Where are you?
Ashe returned, looking around. He was alone in the plush, carpeted space outside the elevators.

You cannot see me now. You cannot recognize me in the future, when we meet for the first time
.

Why?

Some things must happen as they will.

But, why am I here?

A better question would be when are you.

When am I?

You'll see.

The elevator doors opened, and Ashe blinked in surprise. Lissa—Winkler's Lissa—stood inside. Ashe boarded the elevator, determined to follow her.

"Going to the soda machine, too?" Lissa asked, as Ashe got off on the second floor of the hotel and walked with her.

"Yeah," Ashe nodded. He wanted to ask her about Winkler. Ask if she loved him. Tell her that Winkler still grieved for her. He didn't.

"This dollar isn't working," Lissa sighed after trying it for the fourth time. Each time, the soft drink machine spit out the crumpled bill in an electronic snit.

"Try this." Ashe dug in his pocket and pulled out another dollar—one that wasn't quite as crumpled or ragged around the edges.

"Thanks." Lissa smiled and traded her dollar for his. "Technology makes it impossible to buy orange soda," she quipped. "Film at eleven."

Ashe grinned. He and Lissa watched as the soda machine accepted Ashe's dollar and dropped a bottle of orange soda in the bin.

"Success," Lissa pulled the bottle out and unscrewed the cap. "Thanks again," she smiled and turned to walk away.

* * *

"Ashe, buddy, where did you go?" Trajan knelt beside the open car door as Ashe drew in a painful breath. He was back in the present, his hands gripping the wheel of Donald Workman's Cadillac.

"Winkler," Ashe turned to the Dallas Packmaster, whose face bore a worried frown, "This car belonged to Lissa's husband. Before he died."

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"Nope. She was funny, wasn't she?"

"And really smart."

"Mr. Winkler, take this." Ashe handed the crumpled bill he held to Winkler.

"What's this?" Winkler smoothed out the bill.

Something Lissa touched
, Ashe replied mentally.

"Kid," Winkler almost unraveled.

"Mr. Winkler, I need to talk to you. In private," Ashe said, climbing out of the car.

* * *

"Matt, I'm sorry. Even you admit this child is powerful, and that he created the earthquake in Canada. There's no reason to believe that he isn't causing this mess, too. We don't have enough resources globally to handle the difficulties we're facing. We've got to stop this, and if one death will do it, then so be it." The President wasn't mincing words.

"It won't be just his death, it'll be ours," Matt hissed.

"I've already got cooperation from the Secretaries and Joint Chiefs," the President ignored Matt's warning. "We're going in—today."

* * *

"Mr. Winkler, things are about to get worse," Ashe rubbed his forehead.

"What do you mean, worse?" Ashe had pulled Winkler, Trajan and Trace into his father's study.

"The nutcase in Washington—that Curtis Roberts guy?"

"Yeah, but how did you know—never mind," Winkler waved away the question.

"He's convinced the President to kill us all."

"What?" Winkler exploded from his seat. "I'm calling Matt. Right now," Winkler hauled out his cell phone.

"He won't answer. He can't. Roberts has convinced the President that Matt's helping to put all of us in jeopardy, so he's under house arrest."

"This is crazy," Winkler raked fingers through his hair.

"Crazy doesn't begin to describe all this," Ashe replied. "We'll be attacked later today, when they can get everything in position."

"What are they sending against us?" Trajan asked.

"Everything. They have no idea that if they manage to kill us, what's causing all this will only get worse, until the Earth disintegrates."

"Kid, you're scaring me."

"You think I don't feel scared? Mr. Winkler, I have decisions to make, and some people aren't going to understand them. You have decisions to make, and some of them I won't understand."

"Ashe, you're talking in riddles," Trace said softly.

"It's what my kind do. A lot."

"Your kind?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Six bodies surrounded Wildrif as he slept. He'd enjoyed killing after he'd wakened the night before, although the first human he'd taken had slaked his thirst. The last five; he'd merely enjoyed their screams as he ripped their bodies apart with long, sharp claws.

He'd been forced to sleep in his basement the moment sunrise came, although there was little light—New York was flooding under black clouds and heavy rains. The earthquake that came later in the day couldn't wake him—he was deep in the rejuvenating slumber any vampire experienced while the sun was overhead.

* * *

"What the hell?" Winkler stepped around body parts that were already turning rancid.