Power(83)

It crashed through the metal framework that had held the doors just as the last of Reed’s tornado was dying down in the hallway. I could see movement down there, motion as I covered with my pistol. I grabbed one of the bullpup rifles from the floor and held it up, looking through broken optics. I frowned and ripped the sights loose and tossed them aside. I was a meta; I didn’t need fancy sights.

I glanced back to see the agent shaking his head in the van, which was now parked squarely in the middle of the lobby. “Go!” I shouted to him and saw him nod. He opened the van door and bailed, tearing off out the hole he’d just created in the lobby.

I heard movement behind me and raised the rifle in time to splash a lady who came around a corner. I pegged her right in the brain and she dropped in her tracks. I fired again for good measure, just to discourage anyone from coming from that direction. I didn’t need much more time, just enough for the agent to get far enough away that the others could cover him and I could—

I heard the footsteps only a millisecond before I got leveled. The hit to the back of the head was catastrophic, all but scrambling my brain. I brought Wolfe to the front of my consciousness but the next hit was so devastating, landing against the side of my skull, that I forgot everything—that there was a plan, that I was supposed to be doing something, what my name was—everything.

I came to on the floor, staring up at a face that I didn’t recognize, but one that was filled with purest fury and a seething rage. Then I saw another, and another, and another. Men, women, creatures I barely recognized as human. My head was swimming, I was dazed beyond belief—but even still, I recognized the danger.

All metas.

The moment of peace lasted only another second, and then they fell upon me in a frenzy of kicks and punches that drove me gladly into the realm of unconsciousness.





Chapter 47


I opened my eyes to find myself facing a room full of people, and I sighed through bruised and battered ribs. “Ugh,” I managed to get out. “You people.” At least I thought it sounded like that. Wolfe, I said in my mind, and felt him stir to come forth.

“Us people,” Claire said with mild amusement. She was right there, front and center, and I remembered without having to work very hard that I truly despised her. “Us people, who have categorically devastated you.”

I felt my swollen lips subside a bit and the pain began to disappear. I pulled Wolfe back from healing me. I needed to be functional, but having them see me go from wounded and beaten to flawless in seconds would probably tip them off that some things were seriously amiss. Then I remembered that Claire had seen me fly, and I realized she probably had at least an inkling of what I was capable of at this point. Clearly not a full understanding, or I’d already be dead.

I could work with that.

“I wouldn’t go so far as ‘devastated,’” I said, a little cocky, putting a slur into it. “But you certainly did just outnumber me and deliver a beating. Oh, yes, you’re all very impressive at a hundred-to-one.”

“We don’t have a hundred anymore,” Claire said, and she sounded snippy. There were a lot of angry faces behind her. “You saw to that.”

“Mmmhmmm,” I said. I walked back the cockiness a little bit on this one. I could have said so much worse; admire my restraint.

A guy came down into the room, which was a sort of big conference room, like something you’d see in the United Nations if they held UN meetings in a seventies-era resort in the Midwest. He had a couple people following him and wore a battered suit that looked like it had been through at least twelve ringers. He paused just in front of Claire, and she looked at him.

“S—s—stop it,” he said. “I don’t like when you r—r—read my mind!” he said.

“You must be Griswold,” I said, staring him down. He looked up at me in surprise.

“How did you know that?” Claire asked, remarkably composed, though I could tell there were hints of fury peeking through her expression.

“R—r—read her mind,” Griswold said, stepping closer to me.

“I can’t,” Claire said, turning away from me. “Zollers is blocking everything.”

“But he’s gone,” Griswold said, shaking his head, eyes tracing her path as she took a short—and I mean short—walk across the room in front of me. She paced in front of her minions. “The Agency chopper t—took off without her, and with the whole staff—”

“I guess you guys will have to make do without turndown service,” I cracked.

Claire looked back at me, and her annoyance turned to a poisonous smile. “Just so you’re not left thinking wise-assing us will get you something … it won’t. We disarmed your bomb already.” She held her palms up. “Ooooh. Planning to blow us all up?” Her expression went flat. “I believe the kids call that ‘epic fail’ nowadays.”