Rain Dancer (Vanderbrook Champions Book 2) Read online

  Rain Dancer

  Edmund Hughes

  This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this title with another person, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Edmund Hughes

  Kindle Edition

  CONTENTS

  Rain Dancer

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 1

  A gentle breeze ruffled the sleeves of Malcolm’s shirt. He was standing on the roof of Vanderbrook’s hospital, but his attention was focused on the building across the street.

  “Do you see anything?” asked Tapestry. She was on the ground below, circling the block in her car, but her voice came to him through a small Bluetooth earpiece.

  “No,” said Malcolm. “If they’re inside, they aren’t advertising their presence yet.”

  He frowned, crouching low against the building’s concrete lip and squinting at one of the windows of the Citizen’s Bank of Vanderbrook.

  “Keep watching,” said Tapestry. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “When do I ever?” asked Malcolm. She sighed, the sound of it muffled over the earpiece.

  Gunshots came from within the building, loud and distinct pops, followed by screams. Malcolm swore under his breath and took a step back from the building’s edge, feeling for the wind.

  “Were those gunshots?” asked Tapestry.

  “Is that a rhetorical question, or…?”

  “Wind Runner!”

  He rolled his eyes, though of course, she couldn’t see it.

  “Yes, Tapestry,” he said, sprinting toward the building’s edge. “Those were gunshots.”

  Malcolm launched forward into the open air, using his gift, wind manipulation, to keep himself airborne. His clothes fluttered, vibrating rhythmically from the intensity of the gust. People on the street below did a double take. Malcolm’s heart, as always, sailed with delight.

  It wasn’t exactly flying, more like extended jumping. Flying was dangerous, both in the obvious physical sense, but also mentally. Malcolm was a champion, and every time he used his powers for an extended period of time, he ran the risk of stepping over his limit, and turning into a monster.

  My track record’s pretty good so far. More than a week in and I’ve still got my faculties intact.

  The gap between the hospital and the bank was perhaps a hundred feet, and Malcolm was on a trajectory to land on the other building’s roof. He considered whether it was the best course of action for a moment, and then shifted routes, burning off height and angling for a third story window instead.

  As he came within the last few feet of the window, Malcolm multitasked, still guiding his path with the wind while also using a directed burst of it to knock out the window frame. It came loose with a satisfying pop, and fell to the floor without shattering.

  Malcolm followed right behind it, tucking and rolling, and then banging clumsily into a desk. He pulled himself to his feet once he was disentangled. Tapestry was saying something over the earpiece.

  “I’m approaching the front entrance,” she said. “I’m going to see if I can negotiate with them.”

  “Perfect,” whispered Malcolm. “I’m already inside. I’ll get as many people out as I can while you keep them distracted.”

  “Give me a headcount, if you can,” said Tapestry. “Of both the robbers and the hostages.”

  “Got it.”

  Malcolm glanced around the room. There were a couple of people hiding under desks. He waved them over to him and spoke in a hushed voice.

  “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” He smiled reassuringly. “None of you are scared of heights, are you?”

  “I am,” whispered a woman, tall and a little chubby.

  “It’s okay,” said Malcolm. “The police already have a net set up and everything. Here, take a look.”

  He gestured for her to look out the window. The woman did, glancing down at the street below, where there clearly was not a net or any sort of police presence. Malcolm set his hand on her shoulder and pushed before she could back away.

  Using the wind, he created a cushion for her, making her drop an entirely gentle affair, outside of the woman’s terrified scream. Malcolm chuckled and gestured for the next employee, a redheaded man, to step up to the window.

  “Oldest trick in the book,” he said. “Are you good to jump, or…?”

  The man didn’t even hesitate. Malcolm lowered him down as well, and turned around to see that the last employee, a younger woman with brown hair and freckles, had been taken hostage. A gunman had a pistol pressed against her temple. Silent tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks, and her eyes were blank.

  “Whoa…” said Malcolm. “Hey, come on man. You don’t want to do that. Just talk to me.”

  “Fuck you,” said the robber. “Enough with this bullshit. You can’t help me. And maybe I do want to do this. How would you know?”

  Malcolm shrugged.

  “I was saying you don’t want to do that because champions work in teams of two,” he said. “And my partner is standing right behind you.”

  The gunman glanced over his shoulder at the very empty hallway behind him. Malcolm slammed into him with the wind, knocking loose both the gun and the girl. He grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her into the room, wondering if he had time to get her out the window before engaging the robber.

  “I honestly can’t believe you fell for that,” said Malcolm. “It’s not the oldest trick in the book, but it’s got to be pretty… close.”

  The robber pulled a second firearm out from the back of his waistband, larger and more intimidating than the first. He took aim. Malcolm moved without thinking, falling to the ground and pulling the girl with him.

  He flattened himself down on top of her, his back awkwardly pressing into her chest. Using his wind manipulation at full strength, Malcolm focused on the barrel of the gun and created a tiny but extremely powerful current of wind. The robber opened fire, and the first bullet missed by a couple of inches.

  It wasn’t because his aim had been bad. Malcolm could, with intense focus, redirect the paths of bullets. It only worked if he could predict their trajectory ahead of time, however, and it took all the wind power he could muster.

  It felt a bit like lifting something heavy. Malcolm’s gift, when
it had first manifested, reminded him of having an invisible muscle, hovering in the air around him. He could use it as he pleased, but it took energy, will, and practice to do anything useful.

  The robber continued firing, unloading bullet after bullet. Frustratingly, the man also began to adjust his aim to compensate for Malcolm’s trick, something that he had hoped would go unnoticed. Malcolm shifted the direction of the wind current, pressing himself back against the girl hard as though she were auditioning to be a pancake.

  The gunman paused. Malcolm lifted one of his hands up, ready to make another appeal to the man’s sense of self preservation. Before he could say anything, the robber fired again.

  The bullet ripped through Malcolm’s palm, tearing a gory hole into the center of it. Malcolm stared at the wound in disbelief. The woman underneath him started screaming, and the robber took off down the hallway.

  “God dammit, that smarts!” Malcolm grimaced, only relaxing as he noticed his second, hidden power going to work on fixing the damage.

  It was rare for a champion to have more than one superhuman power, and even rarer to have a power with as much flexibility as power mimicry. Malcolm could absorb the abilities of other champions and monsters just through touching them.

  Tapestry, one of the few who knew his secret, was more than willing to let him borrow her regeneration whenever the two of them were required to head into dangerous situations. Malcolm watched as threads of muscle and tendons stitched themselves back together. The wound was painful, but not to the extent of crippling him or keeping him from engaging in pursuit.

  “Stay here!” he shouted to the woman. “I’ll be right back!”

  Malcolm charged out into the hallway, and almost instantly, more gunshots began ringing out. He cursed, dropping to a crouch. The robber was blind firing from a room down the hallway, but the danger was still real enough. His borrowed regeneration ability could only sustain so much damage before short circuiting. It didn’t make him invincible.

  “Come on, man!” shouted Malcolm. “This is pointless! You can’t hold out all day.”

  “Fuck you!” shouted the man. “I have plenty of ammo, no reason why I can’t.”

  He fired another shot around the corner, which Malcolm deflected with the wind. He could feel the euphoria and head rush from overusing his powers slowly settling in, and knew he needed to bring the situation to an end as soon as he could.

  Instead of doing the obvious thing and charging forward into the man’s line of fire, Malcolm doubled back to the first room he’d come into. He moved over to the window, climbed out the edge of it, and planted his foot on the building’s outer wall.

  Malcolm started running along the wall, pushing his body with the wind to keep his feet in contact. It was one of the very first tricks he’d learned, and on top of looking like something out of a video game, it gave him a huge advantage in mobility over normal humans.

  Soon enough, he was peering in through the window of the room the robber was holed up in. Malcolm resisted the urge to smash through the glass, instead testing to see if the window was unlocked. It was, and he slowly slid it open.

  The robber was facing the other way, and didn’t notice the noise. Malcolm grinned, feeling a bit like a child playing a practical joke. He lashed out with the wind and stripped the pistol from the man’s hand. The robber turned around, face horrified. Malcolm winked at him.

  “Oh, too bad,” he said. “And now, it’s my turn to be one who-”

  He cut off in midsentence as Tapestry charged into the room behind the gunman, tackling him to the ground.

  I do all the heavy lifting, and she gets the reward. Not fair.

  Malcolm quickly helped the remaining employee out the window and then hurried to Tapestry’s aid. She was about half the size of the man, but already had him in some kind of wrestling submission hold, with enough energy left over to flash a smile at Malcolm.

  “I disarmed the other one, but he took off down the street,” she said. “He was headed north. Think you can catch up with him?”

  Malcolm smiled back at her.

  “Oh, I think so,” he said. “You’ve got this guy handled?”

  Tapestry twisted, pulling at one of the robber’s arms. The man was easily six feet tall, two hundred pounds, and let out a squeal that would have seemed dramatic coming from a little girl.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  CHAPTER 2

  Malcolm burst out the same window he’d come in through, twisting into a slow front flip for the benefit of the gathering crowd below before landing in the street. He oriented himself so that he was headed north and took off with easy, wind assisted steps, each one covering at least twenty feet.

  It was a minute or two before he found his quarry. The bank robber was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up, but still stood out from the regular pedestrians. He glanced over his shoulder at Malcolm and split off into an alleyway.

  As though that’s going to help him escape…

  Malcolm didn’t run, instead standing in the alley and waiting for the man to pass by a couple of metal trash cans. He pushed at them with the wind, knocking one of them in front of the robber who tripped with a loud, metal crash.

  “Ow!” screamed the man. “You fucking asshole!”

  Malcolm stopped in his tracks. The voice was familiar, and the sound of it was enough to make him completely forget what he was supposed to be doing.

  “…Danny?” Malcolm drew in closer. The man was pulling himself to his feet. The gust of wind had blown his hood loose, and Malcolm made eye contact with him as he turned to look in his direction.

  It wasn’t Danny. The face was all wrong, and the man’s hair was blond. Malcolm just stared at him, still taken aback by how similar his voice was to his older brother’s. But that’s all it was, a similarity, nothing more. Two people could have similar voices without it being anything more than coincidence.

  The man took off down the alleyway, sprinting at top speed and letting out rough, undignified gasps. Malcolm took a step after him, and then hesitated. He stood there, not moving for ten seconds, and then twenty.

  What the hell am I doing? Am I just going to let that guy go?

  He didn’t have an answer, and that was an answer of its own. Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and leaned his back against the side of the brick building closest to him. He thought about the last time he’d seen his older brother, and about their fight. About how he, in the end, had been forced to destroy Danny, after he’d turned into a demon from abusing his powers.

  He let his fingers toy with the metal stabilizer on his arm. It was a “gift” from his boss at the Champion Authority, supposedly to help him balance his powers in a way that would let him use them more effectively.

  Rose, an occasional lover of his and a spryte with good information on the subject, had told him the truth. The stabilizers were devices of control, armed with homing beacons and powerful explosives. They were the last resort in the case of a champion losing control, going rogue from abusing their powers.

  Malcolm walked back to the bank after a couple of minutes, still lost in his thoughts. The police had finally arrived, and a small crowd had formed just beyond the yellow tape they’d set up around the entrance. Malcolm launched himself into a wind assisted jump, coming down right next to Tapestry and the police officer in charge.

  The officer started slightly at Malcolm’s sudden appearance. Tapestry just raised an eyebrow at him. Her blonde hair was tied back into the usual pony tail, and she wore jeans and a very unassuming maroon sweater.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “He… managed to get away,” said Malcolm. “I’m not really sure how.”

  It was the truth, in a manner of speaking. It wasn’t as though Malcolm had intended to let the man go. He’d just suddenly lost interest in chasing him.

  Yeah, that’s it. Just a fluke.

  “Seriously?” Tapestry’s expression scrunched up a little.

  She
was a petite woman, but full of energy and emotion, while still having a maturity level befitting her age. Malcolm was one of the few people who knew how old Tapestry really was, though he’d had the good sense to find out second hand, rather than asking her directly.

  “Yeah, seriously,” said Malcolm. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “Well… alright then.” Tapestry shrugged. She looked disappointed in him, and that stung. Malcolm chewed his lip, turning his attention toward the awaiting crowd and giving them a small wave.

  In Vanderbrook, champions were something of a novelty. Most major cities in the world had at least a few dozen champions, enough so that people became used to them after a while. Vanderbrook only had two, Malcolm, or Wind Runner as he was known in the media, and Tapestry.

  Tapestry liked her privacy, and for the most part, the media gave it to her. Her power, bodily regeneration, didn’t lend itself to flashy displays that inspired the imagination. Malcolm, on the other hand, had practically become the town’s golden boy overnight.

  They spent about an hour at the scene of the bank robbery, both of them playing to their strengths. Tapestry spoke with the police and gave a detailed account of what had happened. Malcolm joked around with the crowd, taking selfies, signing autographs, and even getting a few kisses on the cheek from a couple of bachelorettes.

  What would Danny think if he could see me now?

  He tried to keep his thoughts off his deceased brother, but it was hard, especially after letting his memories trip him up during the chase. Malcolm was more than ready to head home when Tapestry finally finished her police debriefing. He fell in step alongside her as they walked toward where she’d left her BMW in an emergency parking spot outside the bank.

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” she asked, as they climbed into the car.

  “Nothing happened,” said Malcolm. “The guy just… got away.”

  “Nobody gets away from you, Malcolm,” said Tapestry. “Not on foot. Heck, not usually even in a car.”

  Malcolm smiled, flattered by her words and amused by her reluctance to swear.