Origin (Lux 4)

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?”

I forced a smile. “This is all I have until I get out of this stupid building.”

He nodded. “Just don’t shoot yourself…or me.”

“Or me,” added Archer.

I rolled my eyes. “What faith you guys have in me.”

Daemon lowered his head toward mine. “Oh, I have faith in you. There’s other—”

“Don’t even think about saying something dirty or trying to kiss me while you’re still in Nancy’s body.” I put a hand on his chest, holding him back.

Daemon chuckled. “You’re no fun.”

“You two need to focus on the task at hand—”

A siren went off somewhere in the building. The elevator jerked to a stop on the third floor. Lights dimmed, and then a red light flicked on in the ceiling.

“Now it’s really going to get fun,” Archer said as the elevator door opened.

In the hall, soldiers and staff rushed about, calling out orders. Archer took out the first soldier who looked our way and shouted. Daemon did the same. A soldier pulled a gun, and I lifted mine, squeezing off a round. The kickback startled me. The bullet hit the guy in the leg.

Daemon lost his hold on Nancy’s form, slipping into his own. His eyes were wide as he stared at me.

“What?” I asked. “You didn’t think I’d do it?”

“Stairwell,” Archer shouted.

“Didn’t realize you shooting a gun would be so sexy.” Daemon took my free hand. “Let’s go.”

We raced down the hallway a few feet behind Archer. Overhead lights went out, replaced by flashing red and yellow domes. Archer and Daemon were throwing blasts of energy balls like it was going out of style, causing most of the soldiers to stay back. We passed a set of elevators. Two of them opened and a handful of origins stepped out. We kept going, but I had to look back—I had to see what they were going to do. I had to know.

They were the perfect diversion.

Everyone’s attention was on them. One of the little boys had stopped in the middle of the hallway. He bent and picked up a fallen handgun, and I saw that his wrist was bare of the bracelet. The gun smoked and then melted, re-forming into the shape of a small ball.

The little boy giggled.

And then he spun, throwing the twisted wreck of a gun right at a soldier creeping up on him. The gun went straight through the man’s stomach.

My step faltered. Holy crap.

Had we done the right thing letting them loose? What would happen if they got out—out into the real world? The kind of damage they could render was astronomical.

Daemon’s grip on my hand tightened, pulling me back to the task at hand. I’d have time to worry about them later. Hopefully.

We rounded the corner at full speed, and I was suddenly forehead-level with a pistol, so close that I could see the finger on the trigger, see the tiny spark of it firing. A scream got stuck in my throat. Daemon roared, the sound final as it bounced around my skull.

The bullet stopped, its tip singeing my forehead. It didn’t go any farther. Just stopped. Air leaked out of my lungs.

Daemon snatched the bullet away, then yanked me to his chest as we spun, and there was Micah several feet behind us, one hand raised.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said in that monotone child voice. “I like them.”