I wanted to punch the walls, to break the concrete, to shatter the glass in frustration, but I held back. Reckless anger had gotten me here, after all. I thought about the people I had murdered, whom I’d been accused of killing. Really, Li didn’t know the half of it. Parks, Clary, Eve, Bastian and Zack were just the tip of the iceberg for me lately. Thankfully he didn’t know about my recent activities in London or they would have probably added another dozen to the charges.
I blinked. I forgot about those guys over in England. Breandan, Karthik, Kat, Janus and ... Reed. And Scott! I felt a surge of panic, wondering if he was still waiting outside the airport for me. I questioned my internal timekeeper again, wondering if I had really been sitting in this chair for two hours. My ass answered me with extreme discomfort in both cheeks as I shifted my weight around. There was no more comfortable position, unfortunately, just this one. And this one sucked after two hours.
They’ll be all right, Zack said. They’re a resourceful bunch.
I felt my expression waver, emotion almost breaking through the facade. They need me. There’s no way they can fight Weissman and Century without me.
I could almost see Zack’s wan smile in the one-way mirror. Maybe they won’t have to. Or maybe they’ll be able to do it. Reed could rise to the occasion and take over.
I raised my hands and rubbed my face. “No,” I whispered. There’s something about me that make me important. That makes me a threat to Weissman, that makes me important to Sovereign. They need me for ... I started to shrug but stopped myself and feigned a stretch, ... something.
But you don’t know what, Zack said calmly.
And I won’t find out sitting on my ass in this cell, either. I shifted in my seat again. There was no comfort to be had there.
But you can’t get out right now, Zack said, trying to be reassuring.
I felt my internal temperature rise. People are dying. Metas are dying, right now. They’re being wiped out in South America, and probably North America soon. We don’t have time to be sitting here. I don’t have time to waste, to throw away just staring at ghostly faces in the mirror.
His faint smile vanished. Well, there’s nothing you can do—
I could rip apart this chair, I said, letting the anger build in my mind, snag it behind my back and heave it through the damned window, following behind it by a second and pounding anybody in the next room to mutton. I visualized it, jumping through the air and slamming into someone with my shoulder, rolling to my back and using my meta strength to launch back to my feet while striking someone with a vaulting kick as I did so. Then turning with both hands balled tight into fists, smashing them into someone’s gut, sending them flying into the concrete wall where their skull smashed into paste—
You ready to kill cops? Zack asked me, snapping me back to reality, to the cell, to my ass still sitting sore on the chair. You ready to murder men just doing their jobs—
Them doing their jobs is keeping me from doing mine, I raged at him and saw him start to fade. And the stakes are a hell of a lot higher for the world if I don’t get out than they are for them if I stay here. There was a dull roar of blood rushing in my ears and I knew my expression was far from calm, now.
But you can—
Forget it, I said and slammed the door on Zack, locking him away. I’m not in the mood to argue with you. I took another breath, steeling myself to carry out my plan of attack, when something Janus had said before he’d been wounded came back to me.
... a monster wouldn’t care ...
I slowly relaxed my muscles, resting my backside on the chair, certain my expression was still surly. I heard the clink of the handcuff chains as I released tension I didn’t even know I’d put into them, letting myself go slack and going back to controlling my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like Mom taught me. I looked inward and saw Aleksandr Gavrikov still there, the only one I hadn’t locked away in the recesses of my mind. He was quiet, dead quiet. Well? I asked him. You got anything to say?
He regarded me carefully in the mirror and shrugged, his faint outline showing me a face I hadn’t seen in reality in something close to a year, since the day I’d absorbed his soul with my own hands, taking it into my body, my mind. There is not much to say.
I stared back at him and tried to release the tension in my jaw, which was set tight. True enough. Not about this, anyway. It’s time to wait, I guess. I took another breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. Want to talk about something else?
He nodded then looked around the room. Maybe we could talk about Klementina?