Weissman sighed. “Long enough to kill him and then leave town, which, if you really took McClaren’s soul, you’d know I was planning to do anyway.”
“After you kill another few metas, as I recall,” I said. “Your business in London is hardly concluded.”
“So you want to be a pain in my ass, huh?” Weissman said coldly. “Keep in mind that while I can’t kill you, my orders say nothing about beating you into unconsciousness and chaining you to a radiator for the next forty-eight hours.”
“You know what, Dr. Time?” I grinned at him. “You’re welcome to try. You’ll probably even succeed, being the amazing badass you clearly are with your abilities. But I wonder if you can—”
“Just stop right there,” Weissman said. “If you’re waiting on some mythical meta I told you about to come save your ass from me, don’t. I assure you, I can pulp you and your pal with the greatest of ease and leave the area without raising his eyebrow.”
“Now we’re learning,” I said. “Let me ask you something about your power—”
“Enough fishing,” he snapped. “We’re done with the conversational portion of this meeting.”
“So that just leaves the fighting, then?” I quipped.
“I know you meant that to be funny,” Weissman said, almost with an air of pity, “but it’s not going to be quite so hilarious when you’re stepping in a pool of your friend’s blood.
“Well, go on then,” I said, waving him toward Breandan, who turned back and gave me a how could you? look. “I can’t stop you, he can’t stop you.” I locked eyes with Breandan. “Looks like my luck’s run out.” His widened, and then he gave a subtle motion of the hand toward me.
“I think you mean his,” Weissman said with a leer.
“Sure,” I said and snapped off a shot from the hip at him.
True to form, Weissman disappeared before the bullet struck. I spun and fired from the hip at the empty space in front of Breandan, who didn’t even have time to react before the bullets were on their way, whizzing in front of his face. There was a scream of pain and suddenly a figure was lying prostrate on the floor in front of Breandan, clutching his shoulder. I was on him a second later, my hand around his neck, my fingers wrapped around the soft flesh, choking him and willing my powers to work faster.
“Now, Mr. Weissman,” I said with a smile as I knelt astride him. He grunted in pain as he held his wounded shoulder, “Let’s see what you know.”
“Lucky shot,” Weissman hissed through gritted teeth as I gripped his throat tighter and felt the first stirrings of my power at work on him.
I shot a glance at Breandan, who looked to be trying to catch his breath. “The very definition of one.”
“You think you win on a lucky shot?” Weissman said, the pain entering his voice. “Let me tell you something about me, about Century. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more lucky shots to take us down than you’ve got in you.” He gave me a burning glare of defiance and then was gone, disappeared from my grip as I fell to the ground from where I had been kneeling atop him.
“Oh, shite,” Breandan said in alarm from above me. I looked up at him and swallowed heavily, waiting for the blow to fall. The air was still and quiet in the office, and as I started to stand something slammed into my back so hard I was driven to my knees. A moment later I saw Breandan fall, flipping behind the desk after a blow to the face.
“Did you think you could beat me?” came Weissman’s voice from above me. “Did you really think you could conquer someone who has mastery over time?” Fingers grabbed me around the back of the neck and drove me into the floor, hard. The concrete rushed up to meet me and I felt something break, a stabbing pain above my eye telling me that things were most certainly not all right at the moment, at least not in the realm of my face. “You are such an arrogant little twat. If I didn’t have to spare you,” he spun me around and held me by the front of my shirt, “you’d already be dead.” He clubbed me across the face with brutal speed, and my head snapped back, dazing me further. “So you get to live. But,” he said with a smile, “I’m gonna leave you in so much pain that you’ll wish for the next twenty-four hours that I’d killed you.” He hit me again, and I heard cracking in the back of my neck from the force of the blow. I tried to lift a hand to grab his, but there was no feeling in my fingers, or my feet, or anywhere else in my body.
Weissman stood. “And I’m gonna start by slaughtering your little friend while you watch.” He straightened the cuffs of his suit coat. “By the time I’m done, I’m gonna have to keep you from drowning in his blood.” He pointed a thin finger at my face. “Remember—it could have been easy. Now it’s gonna be long, drawn out and torturous. And it’s all your fault. Watch and learn, little girl—”