Copper Veins(75)

“She’s going to kill them,” Sadie whispered, her eyes trained on the Peacekeepers. Mom had somehow wound the three guards together, their arms and legs now resembling Celtic knotwork.

“I never kill when I can make an example,” Mom said. She flicked her wrist, and the knotty guards were flung halfway down the corridor. “Now, let us find my husband.”

Mom stalked down a dusty corridor, leaving the guards, who now resembled pretzels more than anything else, whimpering.

“Come along, children,” Mom ordered. “My Beau is waiting.”



We followed Mom down the corridor, stepping over the knotted-up guards in the process. I could have been wondering how long they’d stay like that, if there were more guards up around the next bend, what would happen when one of them had to pee. Instead, all I could think about was what Juliana had said back at the manor.

Juliana had been the one responsible for all the confidential information on my work computer, the very same information that had led to me finding Max and freeing him from his living hell as a Peacekeeper lab rat. The very same information that would have meant Juliana’s death, had anyone caught on to her.

All this time, I’d thought that she’d betrayed not only me, but my entire family. Juliana really had been my first real friend at a time when most either avoided me because I was rich or because I was the weird girl who dyed her hair the color of mud. But Juliana had never been like that—she’d always liked me for me, not just for my outer appearance. Then, I saw her working at the Institute, reading printouts about the experiments carried out on Max, and I’d felt like a fool.

I felt like the only friend I’d ever had was just using me.

When Max and I had seen her onstage with Langston at Mike Armstrong’s rally, I’d had no reason to doubt what Mike said. It seemed perfectly natural that Juliana, the niece of a popular politician, would end up marrying another politician in the same party. I mean, Juliana had looked terrible, but then if she’d been pregnant she might have been sick. That could have accounted for the dark circles under her eyes, maybe even the weight loss…

I sighed and laced my fingers with Micah’s. I just didn’t know what to think.

“Cover,” Mom hissed, shaking my thoughts loose. I glanced down the corridor and saw a full complement of Peacekeepers headed toward us. For the first time, I missed Jerome.

“Weapons?” Max asked Mom.

“Same,” she replied. Having a warrior queen for a mother was quite handy in these situations.

“Can you take apart that many at the same time?” I asked. There had to be two dozen Peacekeepers with guns, and that was a lot of plastic for Mom to unbind all at once.

“I can handle at least half,” Mom replied, then she looked toward Micah and Max. “I trust you boys can handle the rest?”

Micah straightened his back and frowned, but he knew better than to give Mom any backtalk. “Maeve, I will certainly assist you. Please, work your spells as you see fit.”

Mom smiled—Micah had charmed Mom right from the get-go—then she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. When the guards began shouting, I knew she’d done something good.

I poked my head around the corner, and saw the guards covered in melted plastic that used to be guns. The smart ones had dropped their weapons once they realized what was happening, and had only suffered superficial injuries. The ones that weren’t so swift were screaming under a mess of molten plastic and…metal.

“Dude,” Max said. Micah turned toward Max and raised an eyebrow—I imagined he had never been addressed as such before. “Feel those bits of metal in with the plastic?”

Slowly, Micah’s scowl became a smile. “I do. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

With that, Micah and Max stepped into the hallway in full view of the Peacekeepers. Despite Mom’s assurance that she could down half of them, around fifteen were still standing.

“Hey fellas,” Max said as he called the metal bits out from the plastic slop. “Any of you remember me?”

Based on their garbled shouts, some did. Then, they didn’t.

As those guards fell to the ground, Micah rushed forward. It seemed that recent events had left him with some lingering anger issues to work out, and I watched as he decimated the remaining seven guards in a rather messy manner.

“I got more,” Max said when it was over. “I took down eight, and you only got seven.”

Micah arched a silver brow. “And?”

“Winner winner, chicken dinner,” Max said, then he started checking the guards’ bodies for signs of life. Micah looked at me but I only shrugged—far be it from me to understand why my older brother said the nonsense he said. If it wasn’t for his mark, I’d have wondered if he was switched at birth.