Origin (Lux #4)(62)

“No, ma’am, but this area is closed to all personnel that don’t have clearance and…and to guests.” Mr. Talkative glanced at me and then Archer. “That was the order you gave.”

“Then I should be able to bring who I want down here, don’t you think?”

With each heartbeat, I knew we were running out of time. The hand on my shoulder tightened, and I knew even Archer was thinking that.

“Y-Yes, but this goes against protocol,” Mr. Talkative stuttered. “We can’t—”

“You know what?” Daemon took a step forward, glancing up. I didn’t see any cameras, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. “Protocol this.”

Daemon/Nancy threw out his hand and a bolt of light erupted from his palm. The arc of energy split in two, one smacking into the chest of Mr. Talkative and the other into the silent guard. They went down, smoke wafting up from their bodies. The smell of burned clothing and flesh hit my nose.

“Well, that’s one way of doing it,” Archer said drily. “No turning back now.”

Daemon/Nancy cast him a look. “Can you open these doors?”

Archer stepped forward and bent. The red light on the panel flipped green. The airtight seal popped, and the doors slid open.

Half expecting someone to jump out and point a gun at our faces as we walked into an open area of the ninth floor, I held my breath. No one stopped us, but we did get a couple of weird looks from the staff milling about.

The floor was a different layout than the ones I’d seen, shaped like a circle with several doors and long windows. In the middle was something that reminded me of a nursing station.

Archer dropped his hand, and I felt something cool pressed into mine. I looked down, startled to find I was holding a gun. “No safety, Katy.” Then he stepped up beside Daemon. In a low voice, he said, “We’ve got to do this fast. See the double doors there? That’s where they should be at this time of day.” He paused. “They already know we’re here.”

A chill snaked down my spine. The gun felt way too heavy in my hand.

“Well, that isn’t creepy or anything.” Daemon glanced at me. “Stay close.”

I nodded, and then we started around the station toward the double doors with two tiny windows. Archer was right behind us.

A man stepped out. “Ms. Husher—”

Daemon threw his arm out, hitting the guy in the chest with a broad swipe. The man went up in the air, white lab coat flapping like the wings of a dove before he smashed into the window of the center station. The glass splintered but did not break as the man slid down.

Someone screamed; the sound was jarring. Another man in a lab coat rushed toward the opening to the station. Archer spun around, catching him around the neck. A second later, a blur of white shot past my face and smacked into the opposite wall.

Chaos erupted.

Archer blocked the entrance to the station, which must’ve had stuff we didn’t want them to get access to, sending one person flying after another until the remaining staff had huddled against the door—the door we needed to get into.

Daemon stepped before them, the pupils of his eyes turning white. “If I were you guys, I would move out of the way.”

Most of them ran like rats. Two stayed. “We can’t let you do this. You don’t understand what they’re capable of—”

I raised the gun. “Move.”

They moved.

Which was a good thing because I had never shot a gun before. Not like I didn’t know how to use one, but pulling the trigger seemed harder than moving a finger. “Thank you,” I said, and then felt stupid for saying that.

Daemon hurried to the door, still in Nancy form. I saw a panel and realized we’d need Archer. I started to turn to him, but the sound of locks turning echoed like thunder. I whipped around, my breath stalling in my chest as the doors receded into the walls.

Daemon took a step back. So did I. Neither of us had been prepared for this.

Micah met us at the door of the classroom. All the chairs were filled with little boys of different ages. Same haircuts. Same black pants. Same white shirts. All had a look of disturbingly keen intelligence, and they were turned in their seats, staring at us. At the front of the classroom, a woman lay on the floor, facedown.

“Thank you.” Micah smiled, stepping out. He stopped in front of Archer and lifted his arm. A thin black bracelet circled his wrist.

Silently, Archer moved his fingers over the bracelet, and there was a soft click. It slipped from Micah’s arm and clattered to the floor. I had no idea what that was, but I figured it was important.

Micah turned to where the remaining staff huddled together. His head tilted to the side. “All we want to do is play. None of you let us play.”

That’s when the screams started.

The staff started dropping like hot potatoes, hitting the floor on their knees, clutching their heads. Micah kept smiling.

“Come on,” Archer said, wheeling a chair toward the door. He shoved it in place, keeping the door open.

Glancing back at the classroom, I saw that the boys were on their feet, moving toward the door. Yeah, it was definitely time to go.

The men were still unconscious in the hallway, and we hit the elevator on the right. Once inside, Archer pressed the button for the ground level.

Daemon glanced down at my hand. “You sure you’re okay with that?”