The Miranda Contract (23 page)

Miranda looked over at the runway leading to the elevator. She moved backward, arms up and smiling at the crowds.

“The real magic is out there. We’ve decked the whole park in magic freak chic, just a little intimate thing for you and me, for my final show.”

The crowds moved again. She could see empty seats but there were still too many people inside. The lights went out for a few seconds and screams spread through the air. Her microphone dropped out.

“Get out of here,” she whispered to Kyla. “Get outside.”

“What’s going on?”

“You’re in danger here,” she said. “Get the dancers out of the building, please.”

Kyla nodded, the blue ink on her face flaring quickly before it pulled back under the pink and disappeared. She touched Miranda’s hand lightly and then moved back towards the other dancers.

Miranda retreated to the runway as the lights returned. White balls of light flickered up and down the path to the elevator. She kicked open the box with her foot and saw the ray-guns. Her chest felt tight as she bent down and took one out, slipping it into the waist band of Dan’s jeans.

“You see, there’s this boy,” she said again, the microphone only transmitting some of her words. “And he’s out there somewhere, trying his best to be a better person. He’s out there for you and he’s out there for me.”

Kyla disappeared off stage, along with the band and dancers. Miranda was left alone in the flickering lights.

“And he’s a freak.”

The lights cut out again. There was a scream from her left and then more around the arena. The microphone crackled and she pulled it from her head, dropping it to the floor.

“But he’s my freak and I’m not going to let him down.”

Chapter 30

Dan

S
he stepped away
from him, walking backwards with her eyes still on his. He could sense the explosives behind her, threaded through the stadium like a brightly strung web. They weren’t hidden from him. That wasn’t their purpose.

Miranda waved at him as she reached the door. And then she turned around, her hair spreading a little as she moved and stepped through. It only took a moment before the doors closed again and she was gone.

“We have to do this,” she had said back at the beach. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

Dan jogged to the doors and slipped in, but Miranda was already gone. He could still feel her lips against his, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the access corridor he realized how much he had been thinking about that kiss. It’d been coming for a long time.

He breathed out and focused on the network of explosives. He pressed his fingers against a wall and felt the electricity pulsing there. A door unlocked ahead of him, the electronic mechanism no match for him tonight. With a last glance down the corridor, Dan moved into the maintenance room. He let the door click behind him and took in the monitors lining one of the walls. He saw a band on stage and cameras cycled through a loop of security footage from all the exits. He saw Halo on a screen, looking defiantly up to the camera, tapping his phone which shined in the light of the service corridor.

Dan shook his head but already his mind had burst outward, into the stadium, to lock down that phone. He located the camera and pin-pointed Halo’s location. Level 2. Dan knew the way.

It was quiet. The well-lit corridor had several doors leading off on each side but he needed access to the higher levels. Halo’s phone signal called to him from above. He closed his eyes quickly and scanned the area, pushing his mind outward and when he came across surveillance or locks, Dan over-rode them and closed off their circuits. He switched off the explosives as he moved as well, sucking the energy dry and leaving them disengaged husks. Security could cut them out of the walls later, when it was safe.

It was all too easy.

The lights remained on in the corridors, but as he moved further into the bowels of the stadium the cameras began to go down, flicking out one by one. The Mad Russian was in the building. Dan moved to the end of the corridor and found the stairs. Beside them were elevators, big service ones which ferried goods up and down the center. He thought about using them but decided against testing his luck so early in the night. He pushed open the door to the stairs and jogged up to the next level.

As he stepped out into more corridors, two people walked past him, talking fast into their headsets. Dan smiled at Miranda’s name and ducked his head as they passed. Halo’s phone signal led him away from the main corridor and into more dimly-lit spaces where cages held oversized props and promotional material. The air was cooler here too. He saw a Christmas tree slumped up against the wire mesh.

With the air conditioner chugging away above him, Dan relaxed a little and looked around, his fingers pressing the edge of the tree against the wire. Christmas seemed so far away. He let the plastic pine needles go and stepped further into the semi-darkness. Besides the noise and the physical vibrations from the machine above, the corridor was abandoned and his steps echoed. The wire fences enclosed storage cubicles, protecting brown paper-wrapped merchandise, signs and display cabinets from concerts gone by. It gave the corridor an appearance of order by hiding the clutter behind wire and padlocks.

The passage led from the service elevator along eight cubicles on either side, right to the back where a compactor sat silently behind double doors. It was funny, he’d made deliveries to this place during the daylight hours, smuggling hot food to the staff who craved something fattening but couldn’t be bothered walking across to the food vendors. It looked the same: low light, slight echo of the rumbling air conditioner. Normally there would be a handful of workers congregated around the compactor room, stealing a cigarette break, away from the prominent smoke detectors, waiting for their chicken combos and wraps. They would be leaning against walls, nodding in agreement over poor wages, tyrannical supervisors or the football.

But tonight the place was empty.

He walked slowly, a strange feeling of being disconnected coming over him. Out in the fluorescent world of the stadium, Miranda would be commanding the attention of her loyal fans. All eyes on her. Even the predators. She knew the dangers. At least, Dan hoped she knew. It had been her choice, her gift to him, a last minute distraction to draw the world to her and let him slip into the stadium and through unmarked doors into the world beyond.

But it was a different, cut-off world. He wasn’t being chased, threatened, beaten up and left for dead. He was hidden and it felt safe, like he could just stop and let the world pass him by. It was familiar. It was the
other
option, the safer route. He knew he could return to his old life, he’d just need to stay in one spot, not challenge his grandfather. Let Miranda die.

He hadn’t even stopped walking, his fingers trailing along the wire mesh of the cages. The idea faded, not even fully formed. When he got to the corner with the compactor and the stairwell, there was no indecision. He didn’t want the shadow half-life anymore, living from day to day, hour to hour, with nothing to look forward to. He’d seen his mother fade into a vague blue smudge of a person.

Was she back now, he wondered. It was too early to tell.

He knew he would protect her, though. The Mad Russian had messed with all their lives, and now he wanted Dan to be stellar, to grow into the family name, to eclipse his unpromising father who had blown himself up, and perhaps even to replace the Mad Russian himself one day.

He slid the door open and looked into the compactor room. On the edge of the gaping hole which led down to the box crushing machine in the basement, Dan saw a phone with its power on.

“Crap,” he said, pushing out with his senses, searching for Halo.

And then he was kicked in the small of his back, and stumbled forward. Halo landed on the ground as Dan crashed into the compactor room, his hands up to stop his head from hitting the metal. In a flash, he spun around and looked out the door, eyes blazing with blue energy.

Halo stepped to the right just as the electricity blasted outward and past him. Dan pulled himself up and tore energy out from the surrounding electric grid in violent bursts. The dim lights were extinguished and the air conditioner cranked to a halt, their power source lancing out and into Dan. He clenched his fists and moved out of the room, a blue glow emanated from his body.

Halo punched low, crouching as Dan came out of the door, but it missed and Dan’s palms flared with a sudden light. Even blinded, Halo moved like a ninja, leaping up to the mesh roof, grabbing a hold and leaping to the top of one of the cages.

“Where is he?” Dan called out. He traced the line of metal, seeing the criss-crossing mesh with his special senses, all the way to Halo who crouched above. It wouldn’t take long to stun him.

“Take it easy,” Halo said. “You’ve got all night, Danny.”

Dan reached out and clamped his fingers around the mesh. He flexed and electricity burst outward, travelling like lightning through the wires. But the energy was blocked and re-routed, shooting through a second, hidden network and back into Dan, knocking him back with a burst. He fell to the ground, his hands glowing brightly again.

“You think I’m an idiot?” Halo called out. “I brought you here.”

Dan could sense the subtle circuit-breakers attached to the mesh. It had been hidden from him but now that he had activated them they were revealed. He didn’t recognize whose work it was. Surely not Halo.

Halo leapt down, landing in front of Dan who sat on the floor, his legs splayed to each side, still looking surprised at his glowing hands. Halo’s foot shot out at head level, but Dan deflected it with his charged forearm. Sparks flew and Halo spun again, switching his feet, moving like a street fighter. The second kick connected with Dan’s chest, shoving him against the opposite fence.

“Don’t be shy,” Halo said and fell back to a defensive stance.

Dan pulled himself up using the wire mesh. He was still fully charged but the kick had winded him.

“Where is he?” Dan asked again.

“Your conversation is a bit boring.”

“I’m not here to talk.”

“Good to hear,” Halo said and punched outward, but pulled up deliberately short. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

Halo smiled, his face bathed in the blue glow. Dan felt a rising anger, a hatred for the way Halo could still smile so easily.

“You’ve got your juice back,” Halo said. “Don’t waste it on me.”

Dan clapped his hands together in front of him, releasing a thunderclap which blew Halo backward down towards the service elevator. Crackling energy wrapped around him as he stumbled, kicking his legs out and falling.

Dan followed him, coming to a stop next to Halo’s twitching boots.

“It’s a decoy,” Halo said, surprisingly calm. His eyes looked to the roof, but then crossed to meet Dan’s eyes. “You’re being played. Again.”

Images from the hotel explosion replayed across his eyes. The shooter collapsed once the trap had been set, and now Halo had set him up again. Dan pushed his senses outward, taking in the surveillance camera network which was still down. Most of the explosives had been deactivated but he could sense more of them on the other side of the stadium.

“Where is he?” Dan mumbled, searching still.

“Don’t follow him, Dan. You don’t have to be the one trick pony.”

Dan stepped over Halo’s body as he twisted on the ground and raised himself up on his elbows. Halo struggled again, his legs numb from the shock. Dan punched the elevator button. Then he looked back at Halo.

“I’m not anything like him.”

“Probably not,” Halo said.

“Why are you here?”

Halo shrugged.

“I mean it,” Dan shouted. “He treats us like puppets. Why are you still with him?”

“Because I can’t cut the strings, Dan. Only you can do that.” Dan thumped the wall and sparks flew out. He hit it again. “Look for the separate line,” Halo said. “The old man’s set up a single camera loop down there. Especially for you.”

Dan narrowed his eyes but he was already searching below. Most of the cameras were down, the locks deactivated; but then he stumbled across a transmitting signal. He concentrated further and broke into the visual feed.

“Sorry, man,” Halo said.

Dan’s eyes widened as his began to assemble the fragmented images from below. A camera system had captured a woman, dressed in a silver outfit. It was Miranda. Her dark hair fell across her face as she clutched the microphone stand and Dan could see she was trembling. It was a stage, and posters of Miranda rippled in a manufactured wind behind her as she stood in front of the microphone.

Her lips moved. He could see that. They moved quickly like they were reciting a prayer or going over lines before the performance.

Her hands shifted on the microphone, fingers lifting and moving to take hold of it again. She didn’t look up at the camera.

She breathed out.

Dan held his breath.

And then electricity shot towards her from all sides, white light shooting into her chest and blasting out the back. She stood, clutching the microphone, refusing to let it go. Her mouth opened and more light spilled outward, directly towards the camera that Dan had hijacked.

Everything was consumed with the blinding white light.

The elevator door opened and he stumbled into it, pushing madly for the floor below, using his hands and his mind. The doors closed again and Halo was gone.

Time seemed to stop.

The image of Miranda burned into his mind. He shut his eyes and it was there. He opened them and she was still there. He pushed his way into the corridors again as the doors opened and stumbled towards the camera’s fading signal. It drew him in like a line. He knew it was a trap, that his grandfather would be waiting.

But he didn’t care.

He had lost everything.

He came to a stop at the stage door. The signal was clear but he couldn’t do it, the door stopped him. He pressed his face against it and felt the coolness. He realized he was crying.

He could smell burning.

“Miranda…” he whispered.

He didn’t expect to gag, had told himself that it wasn’t any worse than other times, but when Dan pushed through the doors onto the stage he had to step back again quickly. The stench was like a solid force, pressing against the door and the walls, shifting itself through the molecules, wafting like a wave.

It was like burning meat.

He slid down the door with his arms crossed over his face, the sleeves of his shirt blocking the smell. In the second he had opened the door Dan had seen her body, on its back with legs bent at the knees, melting into the canvas floor. The jagged struts of bone and the withered torso were unmistakable.