by A. M. Pierre
Connor felt sick. “You mean your little missions where you used us to do your dirty work? Blowing up schools and taking out refugees?”
“We are saving the world—a world populated by mindless sheep. We are saving it from itself.”
“You’re monsters.”
Mark shrugged. “With your narrow-minded worldview I can see how you might reach that opinion. And everyone’s entitled to their opinion, no matter how stupid it is. You all think you’re the heroes of this story, when the sad truth is you don’t even know what the story’s about.”
Kaia looked at the pink-lipped Ms. Smith, still holding her cheek. “I don’t get it. How could you have that vidphone face-morphing thing when Dice only made it a few weeks ago?”
“See? Completely clueless. You children are not the only tools at our disposal. Although, I must admit Daisuke was a fairly useful tool. Too bad he outlived his usefulness.”
Connor ground his teeth. “I was right. You were behind his,” he almost choked on the word, “death.”
“Oh, of course. As long as there was a chance you would stick around, I couldn’t admit it, though. And the bomb was indeed intended for the three of you. Connor and Daisuke—the one who distrusts authority, and the one who sees conspiracies everywhere, but who both constantly question things. And poor Kaia—the lost little lamb who had the misfortune to overhear their wild theories. Your deaths would have convinced the others of my explanation—that someone on the outside was gunning for them and they needed The Company to protect them. But that elegant plan was thwarted by your cursed tenacity.”
Kaia gripped the edge of the desk like she needed it to stand up. “But Dice still died.”
“Yes, well, small victories. But, as I sadly discovered, even your fail-safes can be ruined by a couple of worthless punks. Besides Daisuke’s interference in keeping you two from blowing up along with him, we have Connor and his stupid ‘I’ll risk my own life to save yours’ parachute stunt, and then you, through sheer stupid chance, ruining my last resort.”
“Last resort?”
“Did you really forget all about your very silent driver? He was on his way with a couple of back-up assassins when you called Ezio and the gang. Once you’d told them you’d made it to the safe house, what could we do? It’s called a ‘safe house’ for a reason. That had me scrambling, let me tell you. While you’re drugging Connor, I’m making frantic phone calls—‘Don’t kill them after all! Help them escape instead!’ I wasn’t too happy about that—makes me look indecisive, you know? Not a good quality in a leader.”
Connor’s hands were clenched so hard the nails were digging into his skin. “Is being a sarcastic jerk a requirement?”
“Of course. Listed right below ‘College Degree’ on the job application.”
“Keep waffling. It gives us more time to finish wiring this place to blow.”
Mark’s face was a mask of sympathy. “Slowing down a bit, aren’t we, my dears? I’d hurry up if I were you. The police will be here any minute.” He looked back and forth at both of them. “What, you thought I was chatting away because I was some egomaniac who had to explain himself to feel superior?”
Connor looked over at Kaia. “Well . . .”
“Friendly piece of advice: I wouldn’t be there when the authorities arrive, seeing as they’ve already been informed who’s responsible for this latest terrorist attack.”
Connor ignored his growing uneasiness. “Well, at least we’ll have destroyed your base of operations.”
“You’re so naïve, it’s almost cute. Almost. You will have destroyed our French branch, yes. Just our French branch. And you’ll have branded yourselves as terrorists. Permanently, this time.”
Kaia spoke up. Quietly, but still up. “We have another option.”
“Excuse me?”
A little louder. “We have another option. We destroy this place, but we don’t run. We go to the police—to the people—and we tell them the truth. We tell them about the experiments you did. How you used us.”
It might have been Connor’s imagination, but Mark almost looked nervous. “They won’t believe you. What proof do you have?”
“Not counting the fact that we can shatter glass with our minds and cause tornadoes with our thoughts?” Connor grinned, a cocky little grin that crinkled his eyes. “Somehow I think we might have a shot.”
Mark stared daggers at them. “People will look down on you and judge you. You will be outcasts. Freaks. Never feeling like you belong anywhere.”
Kaia grabbed Connor’s hand. “We’re teenagers. We’re used to it.”
“Ah, but there’s one thing you still won’t have. Me. Can you stand that, Mr. Rhys?”
Connor stiffened. “You mean, you haven’t figured it out yet? You do realize the longer you talk the more time we have to trace back your signal, right?”
“You do realize the only person on your pathetic little crew who could’ve tracked me was Daisuke, and well,” Mark clucked his tongue, “so sad.”
Kaia flinched. She leaned over to whisper in Connor’s ear. “He’s here.”
He whispered back. “Are you sure? We counted all forty-three people.”
“When he made that clicky tongue noise, I heard a delay like a double echo—look, I can’t explain it, but I know. He’s here, hiding his presence somehow, and he’s close enough that I heard him.”
“Now, now, children, it’s rude to whisper.”
“So sorry. I’ll be sure to speak up this time, you manky git.” Connor smiled, showing his eyeteeth. “We’ve got you. You’re lying about the police, you deranged, degenerate wannabe. You don’t want us to burn this place ’cos you’re still in it.”
Mark stared at them for a second before the screen went dark. Connor turned and made a dash for the lift. He shouted over his shoulder at the fake Ms. Smith. “You should get out of here, too!” He pushed the button for the bottom floor as Kaia slid in beside him. “Guys!” he yelled into his com. “Mark’s making a run for it!”
* * *
Ezio had heard everything that happened upstairs over his earpiece. They all had. Alizée had even tried to get up a couple of times to go help, but Ezio kept pushing her back. He heard Connor’s final call for help, too, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it. His fight with the guards had left him completely wiped out. He climbed out of the van as quickly as he could and stood with his iron staffs in the courtyard. Maybe if he didn’t wobble too much Mark wouldn’t realize Ezio couldn’t do anything to stop him.
A door in the side of the building opened, and Ezio’s heart sank. Mark was driving out.
The bright red super car peeled out of the garage. What was Ezio going to say to Connor? Or any of them? The man who killed Daisuke was getting away, and he couldn’t stop—
A small figure stood in the car’s path. It took a second for Ezio to realize who it was.
It was Gabriela.
* * *
Gabriela heard Connor’s call for help. She saw Mark’s car peel out and stepped in front of it without a second thought. She could see Ezio and Vladimir running towards her. They were probably yelling at her to move. She couldn’t care less.
She raised her hands over her head, and Mark’s pretty little car flew up with them. She twirled her index finger, and the car spun like a top. She could do anything to him. She could peel his car like a grape and tear him to pieces with the scraps. She could crush the car like a soda can with him inside. She caught a glimpse of Mark’s face as it spun, and she felt sick with anger. You’re the one. You killed Dice. You don’t deserve forgiveness. You don’t even deserve to live. Dice deserves to be alive right now, while you deserve to be ripped apart along with this car. And I have the power to do it. Her hands trembled. Tears dripped off her chin. All it would take was one twitch of her thumb, one swipe of her hand. She wanted to do it, wa
nted it more than anything.
And she couldn’t.
But she didn’t have to let him go.
She snapped her fingers, and the outer frame of the car exploded into a shower of diamonds. They whirled through the air around Mark as he sat suspended in space on his seat. They ripped through the engine, shredding its moving parts, carving the steel like butter. She left him sitting there for a split second more before he and the remains of his vehicle crashed down to earth, diamonds falling with him from the sky like rain.
Gabriela turned to see Mikaël, Vladimir, and Ezio staring at her with questioning looks. She shrugged. “Carbon fiber.”
* * *
Connor came running out the front door to something he had honestly never seen before. Mark was sitting on a car seat in the middle of his driveway, looking a bit stunned, covered as he was in oil, diamonds, and a couple of spark plugs. Gabriela looked over at Connor. She had been crying. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t do it.”
Connor raised his hand. “That’s all right. I can.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew his fingers into a fist. Mark twitched as he felt the first pressure around his neck.
Connor heard Kaia running up behind him. “What are you doing?”
Connor didn’t answer her. He just walked across the courtyard. Toward Mark. Mark’s hands clutched at his throat, but he had nothing to hold onto. Nothing but air. “Please,” he croaked out.
“Please what? Let you go free? Let you live? You killed my best friend. You didn’t even give him a chance to defend himself. You coward.”
“Wasn’t . . . personal . . .”
Connor’s fingers twitched, and Mark gasped. “Not personal?! Do me a favor. You hated him—you hated all of us! . . . No, I don’t think that’s it. You’re jealous. You’re a pathetic, worthless, cockroach, and you’re jealous of us.” Mark’s eyes glared at him furiously. “I’ve hit it, haven’t I? Not to worry, though, mate. I’ll put you out of your misery.”
“No!” Kaia grabbed onto his arm, trying to pull it down. “Please, Connor, no!”
“Why?! Why do you want to save him?”
“I don’t care about him. I care about you. He deserves to rot in jail, not you.”
Connor’s fingers shook. “He deserves worse than that.”
“Maybe, but . . .”
“‘But’ nothing! You know how the system works. Even if we manage to pin any of his crimes on him, he’ll hire some posh lawyer and get off with a slap on the wrist. He’ll be free, and we’ll still be on the run.”
Kaia ducked under his arm to stand right in front of him. Her big brown eyes stared at him so intently he was forced to look back. She put her hand on his cheek, rubbing it lightly with her thumb. “Maybe so, but I don’t want to be on the run with a murderer.”
The boiling cauldron in his heart cracked, and the acid inside started to drain away. Connor let his hand drop.
Mark fell forward onto his knees. He rubbed his throat with a wry smile. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”
The words were still echoing in his mouth when he crashed into the ground, driven by the power behind Connor’s right hook. Connor looked back at Kaia. “I’m not apologizing for that.”
“Guys?” Mikaël called out. “About Dice’s bombs?”
They all circled around Mikaël. A small box with a T-bar handle sat in front of him. Connor almost laughed. “Looks like something out of a cartoon. Makes sense.”
“Should we?” Mikaël asked.
“Is the building empty?” Connor asked. Mikaël nodded. “Then you bet we should.”
Ezio frowned. “But, Connor, Mark had a point. We will be branded as terrorists.”
“Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter, mate. The Company still has control of UNID. We’ll be wanted everywhere in the world by breakfast no matter what we do.”
“I’m with you.” Alizée’s weak voice came from inside the van.
“Alizée, don’t talk, okay?” Gabriela said.
Alizée ignored her. “Do it, Connor. Blow them sky high.”
Connor locked eyes with Kaia. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He reached for her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers . . . and then they both slammed their hands down on the trigger as hard as they could.
A few muffled wumphs sounded from within the building. A couple of seconds later, the first flames blossomed behind the windows. “That’s a bit slow, don’t you think?” Connor asked. He raised his hands, and the fires arched through the air like fountains of flame, following the oxygen trails he carved. They spiraled in and out of doorways and walls, coursing upward until they exploded through the roof in a geyser of light. The structure crumbled in upon itself as the fire danced in joy upon it.
Vladimir gasped. “Wait! What about the informations?”
“Not to worry,” Connor grinned as he held up a Swipe Card. “We made copies.”
Kaia cleared her throat, twiddled her thumbs, and rocked back and forth on her heels. She rubbed her pendant, played with her hair, and pulled down on her shirt for the hundredth time. None of it helped. The butterflies in her stomach kept fluttering.
She peeked out through the curtain at the podium where she would be standing in five, no, four minutes. She tried to concentrate on what a beautiful sunny day it was and ignore the mass of reporters waiting for her. Despite his hesitance, Mikaël had done his job well.
“A press conference? I guess I can.”
“I am still not sure this is the best course of action. After the police arrested Mark for arson, I expected The Company to make good on his threats to implicate us, but we have seen no news coverage of the incident in Lyons or any movements toward us. Our identities appear to be safe.”
“Yeah, Z, but for how long? Mark tried to talk us out of going public. I know, it could be some elaborate bluff or double bluff or something. The thing is, I don’t think we should make our choices based on what some evil guy may or may not want us to do. If we’re starting over, let’s do it the way we want to. Not because we’re afraid, but because it’s our choice.”
“Connor has a point, Ezzie. I say we speak.”
“Hey, what are you doing out of bed again? I know I’m not a real nurse and I only studied by watching other people a lot but I do know some things and one thing I know is you’re not supposed to be wandering around a lot when you’ve been shot and you were shot so you need to get back in bed. Like now.”
“I have been doing the thinking as well. If we speak out to world, perhaps is chance to find more with powers, yes? I am not believing The Company was only doing the experimenting on us. Also, it is good guys who speak against the bad. I want us to be good guys.”
“It appears everyone disagrees with me. Very well, I will respect the group’s decision. I suppose the only remaining question is who will speak at this press conference.”
“I . . . I think it should be me.”
“Whoa, hang on a minute, love.”
“No, Connor, it should. I think my abilities are the easiest for them to see.”
“But it could be dangerous. We don’t know how they’ll react—assuming they believe it’s real.”
“Sorry, but I think I’m going to turn this into one of my ‘run head first into trouble to prove to Connor I’m strong’ things. Seriously, this might be our one chance to get ahead of them. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
It sure didn’t feel okay. The announcer had finished his introductions. It was now or never. Camera flashes erupted from the crowd as she slowly made her way to the podium. She tried to blink the spots away from her eyes and read the first line from her prepared speech. She squinted. Those weren’t words. That was gibberish. It was sabotage—no other explanation. Someone must have snuck in her room and rewritten her note cards in scribbles which somehow still looked like her handwriting.
A m
urmur started in the crowd. How long have I been standing here? I have to say something. But what? If I open my mouth, it’ll be gibberish. Like my cards. I could start with the demonstration. But what if something goes wrong? What if I can’t control it? Why did I think I could do this?
A brisk wind lifted her hair up, and Kaia’s hands automatically went up to pull it back down. Hang on a minute . . . Her eyes scoured the crowd. In the very back, practically hidden by the sea of cameras and crew, was a teen-aged boy wearing a dark green hoodie. It shadowed most of his face, but she could still see his cocky grin.
Connor tilted his head up so she could see his eyes. Kaia felt a trickle of relief, and she made a slight gesture to invite him up next to her. He shook his head. For a second, she almost felt betrayed, but his little encouraging nod told her all she needed to know. The little breeze that followed confirmed it. She knew why he was here. And now she knew she could do this.
Kaia tucked her hair behind her ears. “Thank you all for coming. You may not see what you were expecting today, but I guarantee you’ll be seeing something new. This is not a trick or a con. The abilities I am about to demonstrate are not mine alone. I represent a group of young people from around the world who have extraordinary gifts. I could waste more of your time explaining what we can do, but I believe a demonstration would be more effective.”
She reached under the podium for the heavy red glass vase hidden there. It was already singing. She raised her hands to conduct the music it played. It was a violin solo, resonant and pure. The melody soared as the vase floated above her head. Wind swirled around her, and somehow she knew it was curling protectively around the vase as well. Her right hand inched ever higher as it led the tune . . . higher . . . higher . . . She yanked her hand down into a fist, and the music peaked in a joyous crescendo as the vase shattered into a thousand pieces. The oxygen around her surged upward, helping her contain the hundreds of ruby splinters as they caught and fractured the midday sun.