Chapter Two
Ben moved a hair faster than Dani, long legs working in his favor. Grabbing a small plunger off a rack, he dashed toward the frenzied maid, who’d gotten at least one solid stab in. He threw the plunger with all his strength. It flew true and stuck to the side of Sherri’s head.
Still got the good ol’ aim, bucko, he thought.
With a shriek of rage, she reared and yanked the plunger away. Unfortunately, the tool wasn’t chanted and he couldn’t make it do anything fancy without his powers. Ben grabbed the dropped bucket and charged ahead, figuring he could at least stick it on her head and play the bongos until she got tired of dancing.
As he came close, however, the air swirled faster. It blasted into his chest and shoved him back onto his heels. Straining against the gusts, he checked on both sides. Vern and Dani leaned into the wind as well, unable to push closer either.
“Dani!” Her head jerked his way as he shouted. “Cut her off.”
She braced herself while narrowing her eyes at Sherri, searching for the core of energy the maid used to sustain the gale. Then Dani made a chopping motion with one hand. The whirlwind died off. Ben sprinted in, bucket poised to wallop.
Sherri spun at him, snarling, eyes wide and glistening. She slashed for his throat; he blocked with the bucket. The feathers sliced through the bottom half, leaving him with … well …
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza …
Ben pouted as Sherri circled for another stab. “Hey now, missy. This was my favorite bucket of the last five seconds. We had good times.”
He threw the bucket remnants, which merely clipped her shoulder. She thrust at his stomach and he lurched back. His reinforced jumpsuit turned the cut aside, but he had to keep backpedaling as she rushed in to fillet him.
Then Vern performed his award-winning impression of a bulldozer and clobbered her from the side. Sherri fell, but rolled through and came up facing the fighting instructor. The feathers on her duster popped apart, and she flicked it at him as if in dismissal. A gust of wind lifted Vern and flipped him backward into a rack of training dummies. He bellowed and struggled to untangle himself from the unexpected orgy of rubber bodies.
Using the distraction, Ben grabbed Sherri’s left wrist, which clutched the duster. He tried to yank her to the floor, where he could slam her hand down and force her to release the weapon. She pulled her other arm back for a punch and he raised his right arm to block.
Then he remembered—no right arm. Just dandy.
The roundhouse slammed into the side of his head. His jaw popped and all noise went distant, as if he’d plugged his ears with cotton swabs.
He managed to keep hold of her duster-wielding arm, and wrestled to keep it from coring out his heart while Sherri clawed at his face. Random blasts of air knocked him off-balance as he hopped around, dragging her into a merry-go-round of physical abuse.
Where was Dani?
Sherri grabbed the front of his jumpsuit, spun with a flurry of wind, and slammed him against the wall. The knock dizzied him for a second, time enough for her to stab at his face. He halted the cut an inch from the skin and stared into the maid’s crazed eyes. Her face went purple as she strained to pin him like an oversized butterfly on a corkboard.
Her cheeks puffed as the duster edged closer. His vision narrowed until he saw nothing more than the gleaming feathers, chanted sharp enough to dice bone. The tip tickled his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“Yo, Sherri!”
The maid looked to the side in time to take a faceful of wet mop. Screaming, she released Ben and reeled back as Dani whacked her across the face again. Dani held on to the mop handle as the cloth tendrils wrapped around Sherri’s head like octopus tentacles, muffling the maid’s cries. Sherri cut blindly with the duster, until one of the tendrils snagged her wrist and twisted it hard enough for her to drop the weapon.
Ben wheezed as Sherri tried to tear the mop off her face. Dani used the handle to keep the maid at a distance while forcing her into the middle of the room. Sherri dropped to her knees, and then her side as her struggles weakened.
At last, the maid fell flat, hands and feet twitching.
Dani jerked the mop, and it popped off Sherri’s head with a sucking noise. The maid remained conscious but sluggish as she tried to rise. Dani dropped the mop and leaped on her, a knee to the back driving Sherri down while Dani clamped her wrists behind her.
“Get a bag and some ties,” Ben shouted to Vern, who’d tossed the last dummy off. “We gotta neutralize her. You two,” he pointed at the other Cleaners who’d watched the fight in shock. “Get the nearest handyman in here and then shoot a flare up the Chairman’s nostrils so he knows there’s been an emergency.”
The Cleaners yelled into their handheld radios as they ran out. Vern limped over to a supply cabinet tucked into a corner of the facility. Ben joined Dani, taking one of the maid’s arms so she could pin the woman’s legs.
Once Vern returned with a black garbage bag and zip-ties, they drew the bag over Sherri’s head, cinched it around the neck, and then hog-tied her. The garbage bag was a tool they normally used on Scum, chanted to allow the prisoner to breathe while dampening their powers. Staring down at the maid, Ben recalled when he and Dani had been similarly restrained. There were tricks to defeating such security measures—ones he’d used to spring them last time, in fact—but fortunately not too many Cleaners were privy to these.
At last, they all stood and exchanged worried looks. Dani’s brow crinkled as she scanned him.
“You okay?” she asked.
He touched his throat where the duster had brushed the skin, and the fingers came away bloody. Ben grimaced and wiped them on his jumpsuit.
“Totally peachy, princess.”
“You sure? She had you by the scruff there.” Ben glared, and she raised her hands. “Just concerned, is all.”
He sighed and stared down at the maid, who writhed at their feet. Not long ago, he’d have been able to handle this outburst alone without so much as a stubbed toe. Once one of the Cleaners’ best employees, he’d wielded mop and spray bottle alike to wipe out Scum and Corrupt manifestations. But the Pure energies he’d once possessed had been stripped from him along with the condition that had almost claimed his life. A price he once thought he’d be okay paying.In the months since, though, he found himself increasingly bothered by the loss. For one thing, it kept his status as a Cleaner in limbo, since only empowered folks could technically be part of their ranks. Nobody seemed to know quite what to do with him beyond letting him train and educate the fresher recruits.
He noticed Dani still watching him, her normally bright emerald eyes shaded with worry, and made himself straighten and smile. No need to get her concerned. He might be powerless, but he didn’t have to be helpless.
“Peachy,” he repeated, forcing more conviction into his voice. “Thanks for savin’ myℵ♦♦—er, yankin’ my hide outta the fire there.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “I lost track of who’s saved who a while back. Don’t make me start running a tally all over again.”
He chuckled. “Sure thing. But thankya all the same.” He eyed the mop she’d used on the maid, the same one she’d held to spar with Vern. “How’dja work the mop like that? I didn’t think it was chanted.”
She picked up the mop and shook it until the water soaking the cloth strings drained into her hand. She tossed Carl his way, and Ben cupped the bubbling elemental against his chest. They all looked at the maid and then at each other in concern.
“So what just happened?” Dani asked. “Some kind of Scum spell?”
“If it is, I ain’t gonna be able to sniff it out,” Ben said, feeling a pang of frustration at yet another lost skill. “Either of you sense anythin’ mucky?”
Dani and Vern concentrated on the maid for a few moments, but shook their heads.
“Nothing,” Vern muttered. “If she’d contracted anything in the field, it would’ve been detected and neutralized on re-entering HQ. No spells I can see or smell.”
Dani’s eyes widened. “Ben, wait. Something is off—”
Sherri bucked and flopped around, almost tripping Dani before she caught her balance and retreated a step. She raised the mop, ready to knock the maid senseless if she had any fight left in her.
Ben put his arm out to stop her. Sherri’s movements had nothing to do with trying to get free. He could tell that much. They were mindless thrashings of panic and agony.
“You’re right. Somethin’s wrong,” he said. “Get the bag off her head.”
“What? But Ben, we just—”
“Do it!”
Vern knelt and reached to undo the bag. Before he could, however, Sherri gave one more jerk and went limp. Vern paused, and they waited for several heartbeats without the maid resuming her struggle.
Then he loosed the bag and tore it free. Dani gasped and even Ben, who’d seen his share of nastiness in this line of work, had to breathe out slowly to quell a surge of nausea.
Sherri’s face had frozen in a twisted mask of rage as she stared up at them. Her bulging eyes had glazed over and bloody foam dribbled out from the corner of her mouth. Not so much as a twitch came from her cheeks or chest.
Dani pressed knuckles to her mouth. “Oh, ℜ☐Ω … is she …?”
Vern pressed fingers first to Sherri’s neck and then her wrist. His expression darkened.
“Dead,” he said.