“And what about with you?” I asked quietly.
He smiled, faintly. “We’re not played out yet.” He gave me a last squeeze of reassurance and headed back through the door.
After he shut it, I waited in the quiet and pondered Reed’s words. He could try and reassure me all he wanted, play the big brother card with all its authority, but it didn’t matter. I’d seen what Century had done to a room full of metas already, wiping them out without a fight, without hope, without remorse—and I wondered if they’d be able to do just the same to all of us who remained.
Chapter 25
I stood up a few minutes later, testing my strength. The faint smell of Reed lingered in the room, and I cracked my neck to see if it was all better. It was. I couldn’t remember if I’d had a broken neck before, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. The benefit to healing quickly and being in as many fights as I’d been in was that it was incredibly hard to remember all the injuries I’d accumulated in my year of battle. And it had been only a year, unbelievably.
I was still wearing the same clothes I’d had on when I confronted Weissman, minus my purloined tactical vest. I didn’t see any dressers or any sign that there was any other clothing available for me to change into, which wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that I was feeling grimy. I wondered if anyone had bothered to collect my travel bag from the van in Century’s warehouse, and I ultimately decided I’d just retrieve it myself later, if necessary. I had reached the point in my life where I needed to decisively handle things myself. I’d relied on my mother for all the years I’d lived at home, then on the Directorate when I was in their employ. I didn’t want to rely on anyone like that ever again. It made me feel too weak and vulnerable when they decided to pull up stakes and leave me on my own.
I was doing a full, slow stretch and cracking my back into place when the door opened softly. I turned to see Breandan walk in, a smile on his face. “Good to see you,” he said, closing the door softly behind him. “At least it’s good to see you up and about. I think you’ve been unconscious more since I’ve met you than you’ve been awake, actually.”
“That seems to be a fairly common state of affairs nowadays,” I said, rising off the bed to greet him. “How are the cards treating you?”
He grinned. “These Alpha fellows seem to think it’s my lucky day.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
He shrugged lightly. “Who am I to disabuse them of the notion that their fortunes are merely off for the time I’m at the table? It’ll probably be another game or twelve before they tumble to the notion that I might be cheating. At that point, they’ll ask me what my power is. Probably better if I quit while I’m ahead, eh?”
“For some reason, I thought you didn’t like to gamble,” I said.
“Oh, I like gambling,” he said amiably, “I just don’t think it’s good for me. But that’s something else entirely.” He looked me over. “You look well. Especially considering how unwell you looked when we carried you out of that office where Weissman beat the holy hell out of us.”
“I heal fast,” I said, running a hand over my dirty blouse. It wasn’t exactly top quality to begin with, just a little above casual, but it was what I had.
“You’re not even joking,” Breandan said. “It was well over a day before I could safely take the cotton out of my nose after our scrape on the tube. But you—you’re a right mess less than a day ago and now you’re fit as a fiddle.”
“I’m a powerful meta,” I said absently.
“What’s that have to do with it?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Something about the power scale,” I said with a shrug. “Some meta types are more powerful than others, and with that comes faster healing, more strength, dexterity, all that. It rises correspondingly.”
“Very fancy,” he said with a smirk. “Those of us with only the ability to idly fiddle with luck, I suppose we’re on the low end of your power scale?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really seen a chart comparing and detailing the different types, to be honest.”
The door opened again and I leveled a semi-serious glare at it as Reed entered. “No one around here seems to understand the polite art of knocking, apparently.”
“Sorry,” Reed said, “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”
“Oh, good,” I said, looking down at my ragged clothing, “I’m well dressed to meet your boss right now.”