Chaste Widow (Vanderbrook Champions Book 4) Page 2

  Tapestry took advantage of the moment. The gun in her hand fired, and Malcolm felt a bullet graze his shoulder. He stared at her in disbelief as he clutched at the wound, feeling warm blood pooling under his palm.

  “You… shot me?” he asked, almost forgetting to throw his voice.

  The pain of the wound was nothing compared to the way his emotions surged, and heart ached, over what she’d just done. Malcolm reminded himself that she didn’t know it was him. He was just another mysterious enemy to her now. Recognizing it didn’t help, and it didn’t keep a painful lump from forming in his throat over the thought that this was always the way it would be between them now.

  “The next one is going into your skull,” said Tapestry. “I missed intentionally.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Second Wind ran up behind Tapestry and set a hand on her shoulder. “Easy, there, gunslinger!”

  Tapestry pushed him back. Malcolm tried to slip toward the window in the moment of distraction, knowing that Second Wind would do all that he could to hold her attention and let him escape.

  The apple doesn’t fall far from the… previous apple, that it was cloned from.

  “No!” shouted Tapestry. “We aren’t letting him go! He either surrenders or he dies!”

  She fired again, this time aiming at the window that Malcolm was about to dive out of. He was tempted to use his wind manipulation to try to knock her gun loose, but there were a number of issues with that idea.

  For one, it would go against the supposed powers of his new persona. If Tapestry knew that he could use wind manipulation and heat manipulation, it wasn’t that much of a leap of logic for her to connect the rest of the dots.

  And more importantly, Malcolm wasn’t sure that he could get the gun out of her hand. She would shoot to kill next time. He was sure of it. Tapestry had no real qualms about doing what had to be done. Again, he felt a sharp, painful sense of sadness over having to face off against her.

  Malcolm looked to Second Wind and saw his copy give a nearly imperceptible shrug. There was something darkly humorous about the situation, but not in the kind of way that would elicit a smile, especially not with the barrel of a gun pointed at him.

  “Vanderbrook is hanging on by a thread,” said Malcolm. “Whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you know that I’m part of the solution. Not the problem.”

  Tapestry shook her head. Her finger tensed over the gun’s trigger.

  “Then prove it,” she said. “Take off your mask. If you want me to trust you, that’s where we can start.”

  Malcolm let out a sad, tired sigh. He started to take another step toward the window. Tapestry rushed forward, throwing a punch at his face. He grabbed her wrist and tried to twist out of the path of the gun. Tapestry pushed herself onto him, trying to use her grappling skills to pull him to the ground.

  Her body felt nice against his, despite the circumstances. Malcolm tried to shake off the heavy emotions in his chest as he fought. He really did care about her, and it felt like betrayal of a sort to keep her in the dark when it came to what was really going on.

  “Looks like I arrived just in time,” said a new voice.

  From the edges of the auto shop, long strands of shadow formed and extended outward to restrain Tapestry. If Malcolm hadn’t been familiar with Rose and her shadow manipulation, he would have thought it something out of a horror movie, arms of darkness materializing to seize their prey.

  Rose walked through the open garage door, moving with slow, catlike steps. She wore black leggings and a black halter top, a tight outfit that showed off her fit body and luscious curves. A small smile adorned her lips, and the hue of her pale purple skin was visible in the light of the full moon.

  “You!” Tapestry growled and tried to pull her hand and the gun in it free from Rose’s tendrils.

  “Me,” said Rose. “You’re harassing a friend of mine. I’d appreciate it if you let him go.”

  A tense moment passed without anyone saying anything. Malcolm had no idea what was going to happen next. Second Wind had a pensive look on his face, and looking at him made Malcolm feel odd and disassociated. Tapestry was glaring at Rose, but she shot an expectant glance at Second Wind after a second or two.

  “Tapestry…” said Second Wind. “This isn’t a fight that we can win.”

  “And just why is that?” snapped Tapestry. “This is what we do, Wind Runner! He might not be a monster, but she is! And we have a chance to take them both!”

  “You overestimate yourself,” said Rose.

  She sounded almost bored, and Malcolm understood exactly why. Her powers were a step up from both Tapestry and Second Wind’s. Only since absorbing Danny’s heat manipulation had Malcolm approached anywhere near the level her powers were at, when it came to raw strength. If it did come to a fight, he and Rose would win easily.

  “This isn’t over!” shouted Tapestry. “Wind Runner! Attack them!”

  Second Wind looked deeply uncomfortable with the situation. He scratched his head and waved a hand through the air.

  “Tapestry, let’s call it a night,” he said.

  Rose nodded to Malcolm, and the two of them slowly backed out of the auto garage, watching Tapestry carefully. Second Wind gave them both a knowing look, one that told Malcolm that he’d only be able to hold Tapestry back for a minute, at most, before she’d charge after them.

  “I’ll find out who you are!” shouted Tapestry. “Your stupid mask won’t protect you forever!”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” said Malcolm.

  Tapestry responded with several angry gunshots in his general direction.

  CHAPTER 4

  Malcolm ducked his head low as he ran alongside Rose through the auto garage’s lot. His shoulder flared with pain, as though it had been holding off on feeling like a proper injury until he was out of danger.

  “How’d you find me?” he asked.

  Rose flashed a smile at him.

  “The news,” she said. “The coverage… isn’t very flattering. One of the anchors was expressing his suspicions about you being involved with the criminals.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” sighed Malcolm.

  He tried to get his mind off the encounter as he ran alongside Rose, but found it almost impossible. It was ridiculous, but it stung his pride to have Tapestry, someone he cared deeply about, as an enemy.

  I’m her enemy. She isn’t mine.

  She had no way of knowing who he was, behind the disguise. She didn’t know what his intentions were, or the full extent of what he’d done for the city. But Malcolm’s heart didn’t take any of that into account, only caring about the anger and determination he’d seen on her face, and in the way she’d pointed the gun at him.

  “Are you okay?” asked Rose. “I know this must be tough for you.”

  They’d slowed their pace, though Malcolm knew that they needed to keep moving.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just… hard. I wish there was a way for me to sort things out with Tapestry.”

  “You could always tell her that you made a copy of yourself,” said Rose. “She’d be mad, I’m sure, but it might be better than her thinking that you’re a dangerous vigilante.”

  “She would never be okay with it,” said Malcolm. “No. That’s not an option.”

  “You’ve always kept secrets from Tapestry,” observed Rose. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, between you and her?”

  She glanced over at Malcolm, both of them still walking at a fast pace through side alleys and behind buildings. The look on his face must have been worse than he’d thought, because Rose’s expression immediately turned remorseful.

  “I’m sorry,” said Rose. “I just meant… you have to accept everything you gave up for the sake of creating a new identity.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  Rose beckoned to him as they passed by another small alley. She slipped into it, appearing a moment later wheeling a Japanese motorcycl
e, a black helmet pulled securely into place over her head. Malcolm grinned.

  She’d somehow acquired it the previous week, and was evasive as to exactly how it had come into her possession. Malcolm had only cared if it was stolen, and after she assured him that it wasn’t, all he’d wanted was to take it for spin.

  “Let me be up front, this time,” he said.

  “Absolutely not,” said Rose. “You’re holding on to me.”

  She sounded deeply amused by that, and it was a little infectious. Malcolm smiled into her tinted helmet even as he continued to push.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll use the wind to balance it if it starts to fall.”

  Rose climbed onto the motorcycle. It was hard for Malcolm to think of a more exotic or alluring sight. She straddled it in a way that emphasized her long legs, perfect thighs, and of course, her butt. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling at him.

  “Get on,” she said. “Or, if you prefer, you can fly your own way back to your hideout?”

  Malcolm got on the motorcycle. Rose had that undefinable girlish smell to her, underlined with a hint of lavender, and he had to focus to keep his hands around her waist, where they belonged.

  The ride wasn’t a long one, which was a relief for Malcolm, helmetless as he was. Vanderbrook was not as prosperous as it had once been, and several sections of the city were either abandoned or approaching it.

  Malcolm had spent a day and a night searching after leaving his old apartment before finding what he needed. Within Vanderbrook’s old industrial district, inside a small warehouse with broken windows and a leaky roof, lay a trapdoor that led to a clean, modest basement.

  Rose brought the bike to a stop behind another building a short distance away from it. Malcolm got off without saying anything, and had to hide his excitement when she took off her helmet and gave him a small nod.

  “I have to look at your shoulder,” she said, matter of factly. “Knowing you, you’ll just leave it to get infected.”

  “You know me so well,” said Malcolm, with a smile.

  He’d taken several factors into account when picking his current hideout. For one, it was not something that anyone would find by accident. Malcolm, himself, had been tipped off to its existence by Rose, who’d found it during one of her episodes in the time before they’d met.

  Secondly, it was far away from any residential homes or businesses, and people in general. Malcolm was not dismissive of the possibility of his enemies finding him and attacking him when he least expected it. Multi, the demon that currently projected the most force within the city, wouldn’t hesitate to send in a copy of himself with explosives to finish Malcolm off.

  At least this way, he’ll only take out me, and not a host of innocents.

  Malcolm led Rose into the warehouse. The trapdoor was over in one corner, and he kept an old carpet pulled over it. It served to hide both the entrance to the hideout, and the long series of electrical cords that he’d connected to an active outlet in the building next door.

  There was a single padlock that worked on both the inside and outside of the handle. He twisted the combination, pulled it off, and pulled the hatch open. Malcolm offered Rose a gallant hand. She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she accepted it and worked her way down the ladder.

  There was a light within the hideout, but only one. Rose knew where it was and turned it on. Malcolm closed the hatch over them, slid the lock into place, and dropped down after her.

  To call the inside of the hideout spartan would have been an understatement. Malcolm had a single twin mattress, a tiny old CRT television that only picked up the local news channels, a water jug, and a few ragged changes of clothing.

  Rose, as she always did, examined the space with a mixture of amusement and concern. There were no chairs to sit on, and no couch, so she collapsed onto his frameless mattress and stretched back on her arms.

  “Come on,” she said. “Take the shirt off. Let me see that shoulder.”

  Malcolm shrugged, but did as commanded. He winced as the fabric of his black long sleeve t-shirt pulled free of the wound, only then noticing the hole in it, along with the hole in his jacket.

  “I’ll have to go shopping again tomorrow,” he muttered. “I can’t imagine how irritating this would be if I had a proper, rubber and spandex costume.”

  “I can’t imagine you in spandex,” said Rose.

  “Neither can I,” said Malcolm.

  CHAPTER 5

  Malcolm did have money. During his last assignment as a champion, he’d scored a sizable windfall by nudging a high stakes casino game into a favorable outcome. Of course, the use of his powers hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed, but he’d come to an arrangement with the owner and was able to keep his gains, so long as he promised never to gamble there again.

  Unfortunately, just because I have money doesn’t mean I can spend it openly. I need to keep a low profile.

  “I’m surprised you can even still move your arm.” Rose had pulled a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and was dabbing at his wound, using the water to clean it as much as she could. “You’re missing a chunk of your shoulder.”

  Malcolm winced.

  “It wasn’t painful until you started poking at it,” he said.

  “Right,” said Rose. “What the hell were you thinking, anyway? When did eight against one become winning odds?”

  Malcolm tried to shrug, only managing it with his good shoulder. She’d been right to question whether his shoulder still had full mobility with the injury.

  “I wasn’t after them,” said Malcolm. “I was watching for Multi. I expect he’ll try another bombing soon, and it would be nice if I could actually stop him, this time.”

  He gave Rose a wary look. She was still aligned with the remnants of Rain Dancer’s monster faction, which now only really consisted of Shield Maiden and Fantasy, two sprytes that weren’t openly hostile to him so much as ideologically opposed to the organization he worked for. Multi had also been aligned with Rain Dancer, but from what Rose had told him, things were shaky between him and the others.

  “Well, you’re still stupid, then,” said Rose. “Multi isn’t lacking for backup, in case the name didn’t tip you off. Taking stupid risks isn’t exactly good for your future prospects.”

  Malcolm scowled. He picked up the TV’s remote off the cement floor and turned it on. It was already set to the local news channel, and he brought the volume up, knowing that they’d be covering the events of the night.

  “You’re one to talk,” he said. “Besides, my prospects are already muddled by the fact that the world is currently falling apart.”

  Malcolm only recognized one of the two news anchors giving the late-night report. One of the long-time regulars had been killed in one of Multi’s suicide bombings the week before. The remaining anchor had done an admirable job reporting on his coworker’s deaths, keeping his voice steady even as tears crested in the corners of his eyes.

  “Vanderbrook still remains on high alert tonight,” said one of the anchors. “Police continue to seek volunteers from citizens after the bombing that destroyed the police station and most of the police force along with it.”

  Multi’s handiwork. He targets government buildings, sacrificing his copies for the sake of crippling the city’s infrastructure.

  “Several town offices have already been evacuated in anticipation of more strikes.” The new replacement anchor kept her eyes down as she spoke, reading off a paper in front of her. “The attacks of government buildings on local, state, and federal levels have become commonplace all across the country.”

  “Indeed, Priscilla,” said the male anchor. “In several cities, including New York, Chicago, and Houston, officials have ordered the evacuation of the civilian population, lacking sufficient police or military protection to keep people safe from the threat of both the monsters and non-gifted criminal elements.”

  Malcolm scowled at the TV.

  “I don’t know if
it makes me feel better or worse,” he said. “On one hand, it’s nice to know that what’s happening in Vanderbrook isn’t because of a specific failure on my part. But on the other…”

  Rose gave his good shoulder a squeeze.

  “It’s not your responsibility to save the world, you know,” she said.

  “Isn’t it, though?”

  “…officials have warned that if the suicide bombings continue for much longer, Vanderbrook will need to be placed under martial law, or evacuated,” said the female anchor. “Back to you, Tom.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Rose. “You can choose to live your life, you know. You don’t have to punish yourself with… this.”

  She gestured around the small, dank basement.

  “I chose this,” said Malcolm. “I’m not thrilled with every aspect of my life, at the moment. Hell, I had to leave my PS4 with Second Wind. Do you understand how crushing that is?”

  And Tapestry. I doubt I’ll ever even speak to her again, as myself.

  Rose sighed.

  “You know, a smarter man might have volunteered his copy for this sort of thing,” said Rose. “He is you. He’d have done it, if you’d asked.”

  “I guess I’m just stupid then,” said Malcolm. “Good thing I have the boyish good looks to make up for it.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Rose struggled to stifle a smile.

  “You are stupid,” she said. “In all the best kind of ways.”

  She let her head lean forward a little bit and pressed it against his chest. Malcolm could sense anxiety and worry in her. He reached his hand down to her chin and lifted her face up until her eyes met his. There was fear in them, and Malcolm suddenly realized how his situation must look to her.

  I’ve abandoned my old life and my old identity and spend every night pushing myself to the limit to save a doomed city. It’s suicide, from the outside looking in.

  “I’ll be okay.” He brought his lips to hers, kissing her gently. He still had his shirt off, and as Rose’s hand moved across his chest, he felt electric chills of excitement rush through him.