Bjorn let out a roar at the kids, the students, the metas that were here to be protected by the Directorate. A stray thought washed through my mind, wondering where M-Squad was when they should be protecting the kids, but that disappeared quickly. A lone figure stepped out of the crowd, interposing himself between Bjorn and the rest of them, and my eyes, though unfocused, recognized Joshua Harding’s glasses even before I saw his face, that still damnably familiar face.
“All the little children of the Directorate,” Bjorn said, a tickle of glee in his voice. “Little sheep. You’ll all be part of our flock soon.” The big man focused on Harding. “It looks like someone needs to be culled from the herd. Our success as metas is predicated on strength. The weak, the stupid, they should not live, polluting our bloodlines to the next generation.” He closed on Joshua, shoulder down, as though ready to charge, “They should be killed before infecting us with their—”
“I’m afraid I disagree,” I said, leaping onto Bjorn’s back, my hands free of their gloves. I jammed my skin against his neck, holding on tight, “though in your case I am sorely tempted to make an exception to that ‘no killing’ rule I’ve got going.” I felt the throb of blood in his veins as I wrapped my fingers around his throat. He bucked, trying to throw me off his back, his hands prying at mine, trying to wrench them free. I felt the first pull of my power at work, felt the tug of his soul against mine, heard the first grunt of pain from him as his strength began to fail. He screamed, and his legs buckled, and I rode him to the ground, catching it with my feet, holding him in a sleeper hold as he flailed ineffectually against me.
“No,” he said in a strained moan, “please...I don’t want to...not with you, not my soul...”
“Don’t worry,” I said, and let him go before punching him in the jaw so hard I heard it break. “I have standards, you know. And frankly, my psycho-mutant quota is filled for five lifetimes.” I let his limp body slip from my grasp. “Looks like you’ll live to be a moron for another day, Bjorn,” I said to his unconscious form. “Bad news for you, worse news for the rest of us.”
“Hey,” a voice came to me, waking me from the slight trance I seemed to be in, squatted as I was over Bjorn’s fallen form. It was Harding. “You said the building was gonna blow up, remember?”
“Yes. Right.” I hoisted Bjorn onto my shoulder. “Let’s go, people!” I shouted, rallying the half-dozen or so teenagers. They were huddled, frightened after the battle they’d just witnessed, their hushed voices bouncing off the walls. “Last one out gets to die in a horrible explosion.” I gestured to Joshua. “Pick up Kurt, will you?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, then looked at the fallen form of Hannegan, lying prostrate in the glass partition between the doors that led out of the dormitory. “He’s kind of a big guy.”
“What, you haven’t manifested yet?” I said, drawing an ire-filled look. “I just saved your life, remember?”
I caught subtlety from him, and saw that confidence again. “Maybe someday I’ll repay the favor,” he said as he made for Hannegan, stepping gingerly out of the broken glass hole that Hannegan’s body had made when Bjorn had thrown it out the window. We fled, Harding and I following the last of the kids out of the dormitory and reaching a safe distance of about a hundred yards away as the building burst into a ball of fire. The force of the explosion threw me off my feet, sending Bjorn to the ground and me ass over teakettle into a bed of leaves.
I looked up at the orange glow all around me, saw the chill of my breath fog the air, felt the pains in my body—shoulder, back, ribs. I could smell the acrid smoke of all the destruction wrought, could almost taste the stench in the air, the oily, chemical flame smell from the campus burning—my home. I tilted my head in time to watch the headquarters go up in a blast of flame and force, the biggest explosion of the night. I felt a quiver in the ground, and I wondered where Zack was, where Old Man Winter and Ariadne were—where M-Squad was.