“Find the sentient plant,” she said in a low monotone voice. “And I might let you live.”
She walked out of the room, leaving Wayne to think debt collectors were the least of his worries today. If he failed to find this plant, there would be no tomorrow.
Seven
Tony came to with his eyes glued shut. Around him, people spoke in hushed, urgent voices. He could open his eyes, but his training had taught him to always seek the advantage. Whether it was higher ground, information, or to make the enemy come to you, a battle was won if you were smart about it. Keeping his eyes closed—for strategic reconnaissance, he told himself—he focused on gathering what information he could.
He was cold.
The air smelled like disinfectant.
The voices were hollow, echoing as though they were in a room with hard floors and walls.
A bright light shone behind his eyelids, trying to push through.
A rhythmic beep to his right… a heart monitor.
He was probably in the medical room, which made sense if he’d blacked out.
What were they saying?
“…bioluminescence isn’t supposed to be hot.” Parker’s deep grumbling tone was unmistakable. “It’s a cold light. I don’t understand how he’s turned something benign into something so destructive. Frankly, he’s a menace in this state.”
“Goddammit, Parks. It wasn’t his fault,” Liza mumbled under her breath. “See how well you control yourself when you first meet your mate.”
“I control myself fine.”
“You haven’t met your mate yet, ass-wipe.”
A masculine huff. “We’re just lucky Flint was in the back, and no wives or girlfriends were in here. Misha’s pregnant, for Christ’s sake.”
“Wyatt took the brunt of it. Misha was far away. Stop your whining, mijo.” Tony’s mother, Mary, had joined the group, or perhaps she’d been there all along. A warm pressure on his hand meant she’d taken it within her own. It took every ounce of self-control for Tony to hold back a reaction.
Mary had stood with her children, through thick and thin. She’d defied orders from the Hildegard Sisterhood to eliminate them as children, instead choosing to rescue them from the Syndicate. Her entire life had been on the run, and it was only through her inexplicable psychic abilities that she’d kept the family hidden. She’d taught them how to fight, how to be deadly, how to love. Now that their destiny was calling and Mary’s abilities were failing, she’d been unable to hide her increasing feelings of inadequacy from the Seven. But she’d been there. Always. So had Flint.
Whatever was going on with Tony, he knew Mary and Flint would never judge, never leave. Could he say the same for the rest of his family?
A huff and a grumble that could only come from Parker. “I’ve only managed to decipher half of Gloria’s notes. She mentioned bioluminescence, but nothing to explain how the photons could be amplified into some kind of emission of electromagnetic radiation.”
“Speak English, bro.”
“Tony’s body is converting energy into visible gamma rays. He’s got the power of a blue sun inside him. If he can’t control it, his life will never be the same.”
“Dum, dum, duuum. Don’t be so dramatic.” Tony almost laughed at Liza’s attempt to lighten the situation with her ominous sound effects.
But Parker was having none of it. “He went supernova in our basement. The elevator is lucky to be functional. Sloan is nursing second-degree burns. What about this is funny to you?”
Second-degree burns. Sloan?
“Sloan will heal fast. The elevator can be fixed…” Then Tony was sure she said underneath her breath, “Pity about your personality.”
Tony’s mouth felt dry, like he was eating dirt.
“Enough with you two. What are his vitals, doc?” Mary asked. “Any improvement?”
Doc? Must be Grace, Evan’s mate. Another light touch at his wrist. “BP is down, as is his temp. Whatever he did back there seemed to ease the toll the ability was taking on his body. I don’t have any stats to compare with prior to the release of energy. I’m just going on what I collected immediately after.” Grace moved around Tony, shuffling and shifting things he couldn’t see. Probably checking other medical instruments attached to him. He slid his focus down his body and noticed an uncomfortable pressure at his inner elbow. Could be an IV. Tightness across his chest and sides of his forehead—some sort of electrodes monitors. Grace continued, “I think you all need to give him some rest. The blue glow has abated. I don’t think he’s a danger to anyone.”
“Do you have any idea why his body reacted the way it did?”
“I’m not a geneticist, and I’m no genius like you.”
“But if you had to take a physician’s educated guess?”
Silence. Then, “His temperature elevated, and he exhibited the same signs as a patient rejecting a transplant. I don’t know, maybe I’m way off.”
“But maybe you’re right,” Parker assured. “He could be rejecting the new power, but why? Would his addictions be a factor?”
“That’s a stretch, but not impossible. It could also be psychosomatic. It could also be that your biological mother made a mistake when she created him. I’m not a geneticist, so I don’t know for sure, but if this is true, and his body continues to grow to fever and burn through his cells, then I’m afraid the outlook isn’t good.”
“Are you saying he could die?” Mary gasped.
“I don’t know. We need to run further tests.”
“I agree. Maybe I’ll get Pinkerton on the case. He owes us.”
“I’m late for my shift. Are you okay if I head off?”
A low mumble further away. Tony recognized Wyatt’s gruff tone. Liza had said he’d taken the brunt of Tony’s… what could he call it? An explosion of light? Of energy? Power like a blue sun. Wyatt was invulnerable. He must have jumped on Tony to block his explosion.
“Yes, you can go,” Parker responded to Wyatt, then he added, “You too, Grace. We appreciate you running down here.”
“Don’t mention it. You’ll let Evan know when he and Griff are back from the field?”
A grunt of assent. Tony rolled his eyes beneath his closed lids.
“Doc is right,” Liza added. “Everyone should get out of here to give Tony some rest. Someone should stay. I’m off duty, so I’ll do it.”
Chairs shifting and scraping against the tiles. Shuffling and murmurs. A final light press on Tony’s wrist. Then retreating footsteps.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Tony screwed them tighter. Damn it. Liza had known. One by one, he peeled each eyelid open and flinched at the bright lights. He blinked until his vision came into focus and saw that he was right. He lay on a gurney in the medical room in the basement headquarters of Lazarus House. To the right of him was the operating table and lights, cupboards and instruments. To the left, more cupboards and a mirrored two-way window. Still in the basement. They hadn’t had to drag him far, then. He licked his dry lips and rolled his head to the side.
Liza sat in a chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. Her brown leather jacket had scorch marks on the edges of her arms and he smelled barbecue. A hard expression was on her face. She lifted her brows. “You fucked up, bro.”
He rolled his head back the other way.
“You’re lucky my hair is still in one piece. And my eyebrows. Jeez. If you’d taken them, I’d be truly pissed.”
He shook his head and grit his teeth.
“I’m kidding.” She laughed. “Jesus, Tones, take a joke.”
“But you’re right,” he croaked. “I fucked up again.”
“Hey.” Liza touched his arm, bringing his attention back to her. “You didn’t do anything different to what Evan, Griff, Wyatt or Sloan did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, they all had a moment when their powers came in. It just so happens that your moment was a little more… extravagant.” She
smirked at her brother with fond eyes. “I guess we should have expected that from a showman like you, right?”
“True.” Tony shrugged. “I always do things in style.”
“You realize what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You’re an actual star.”
“You’re hilarious. Kill me now.” He yanked the IV out of his arm, ripped off the electrodes sticking to his bare chest and temples, and sat up.
“Cool your jets. Lay back down.”
“I feel fine.”
“But you weren’t a few hours ago.”
With a sigh of capitulation, he leaned back to rest. “Seriously. I’m fine.”
“You thirsty?”
He arched a brow at her. “When am I not?”
“Sorry. Stupid question.” Liza sidestepped the operating table and lights in the center of the room to retrieve a glass of water from the sink against the wall. She handed it to him.
He took the glass and gulped water down his parched throat. It was almost as though the burning energy he’d released had scorched the inside.
“Easy there, tiger,” Liza said. “You don’t want to edge toward being unbalanced.”
Tony paused with the glass still to his lips. She was right. Unless he was within a certain radius of his mate, he couldn’t indulge in his sin, that meant a simple guzzled drink of water could edge him the wrong way. The fact that he’d gone to rehab was even more prudent now. It had given him the tools to temper his urges. He had to remember them because if he couldn’t keep his appetites in check, lives were at stake. Entering an unbalanced berserker rage now would mean certain death for anyone in his radius, not just the target sinner. He wiped his mouth and handed her the glass.
Liza took it and studied it with a furrowed brow. “You want to talk about it, about her?”
Not particularly, no. But he couldn’t bottle things up again. For all he knew, that was the cause of the power explosion.
“Her name is Bailey Haze.” His voice came out way too gruff, so he cleared his throat.
“I know.”
He shot her narrowed eyes. “Did I tell you?”
“Dude, I’m a detective.”
“Right. Sloan told you.”
“Yep.”
He snorted. “Well, did she also tell you that Bailey used to work for the CIA? Maybe still does.” Yeah, right, buddy. Let’s go with the CIA schtick. That’s definitely the reason he’s in this state. “She knows how to fight. She must have been an operative. I don’t trust her.”
Liza sat back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “You think she’s investigating us?”
“Maybe.”
“Nah.”
“No?”
“Yeah, you heard me. No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if someone was investigating us, it would be the FBI, not the CIA. Maybe Homeland, or even the NSA, depending on whether they classed us as a threat to national security. But it would start with the Bureau, or the local cops and I’m all over the latter. Unlikely the spooks would bother with us if we’re just based in this city.”
“But the Syndicate isn’t. It’s worldwide.”
Liza clicked her jaw shut. “Goddamn. You’re right.”
“The initial background check Sloan ran came up with nothing major prior to her being in the agency,” Tony added.
“Nothing. Nobody has nothing. Even we have something.”
“Our something was fudged high school records to make it look like we studied abroad when we were really training how to cross a frothed up stream after recent rain with Master Yoshi—I still don’t get why we had to do that.”
“It was a metaphor.” She blinked at him. “We had to wait until the froth settled before making a move.”
“Yeah. I knew that. Was just checking if you did.”
She snorted. “Point is, maybe she’s just squeaky clean. Or maybe all her trouble happened before she was eighteen and on the record.”
A few moments of silence passed by as they both ruminated. While Tony’s mind wandered to Bailey’s past, Liza pulled out her cell phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Calling Max? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Shh.” She lifted her finger. “I’m calling Joey Luciano.”
His brow furrowed, confused. “From high school?”
Obviously they were thinking very different things in those few moments.
“He’s in the FB—Hey bud, guess who?” The tone of her voice changed completely when she switched her attention to the person on the other line. With Tony, she was hard and sarcastic. With the man Tony assumed was Joey, she was all sugar. Interesting.
With her cell held to her ear, Liza turned away, half obscuring her face. She toyed with the end of her braid. “Yeah good to hear from you, too. Listen, I have a favor to ask.” A pause. A secret smirk. “Yeah, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Seriously, I need you to see if someone is still active in the CIA.” A longer pause. “Not even just to see if she’s still gainfully employed? Please, Joey?”
He couldn’t believe it. Joey from high school. He was on the football team with Tony. He had no idea Liza still kept in contact with him. And he was FBI.
“You are a legend. Thanks, bud.” She paused, her eyes flicked to Tony, then she relaxed at something Joey must have said on the other side. “Maybe next time.” Then she cut the call. “He said he’ll try, but he’s not positive he’ll get access. We’ll have to ask Sloan, which means Max will know, which means…” Liza rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “We’re going to cause shit between them.”
“Sloan already did some digging for me. Maybe it was enough. I’ll go through what she found tonight.”
Liza sat heavily back down on her seat. “You want some help?”
“Nah. You look tired.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Serious bags under those eyes. I’ve got some cream that will do it wonders—ow!” Tony flinched from Liza’s right hook to his pec. “That hurt.”
“It will hurt more if I have to take you down for real next time.” Something dark flickered in her gaze. “I’m serious, Tones. If you get out of balance, I won’t hesitate next time.”
“I get it,” he said quietly. “I need to work out this business with Bailey.”
Liza scrutinized him. “It’s more than the CIA thing, isn’t it?”
“Hell, how do you do that?”
“Detective.” Two thumbs pointed at her chest.
“Bullshit.”
She smirked. “Your lust spikes every time you speak about her. What happened? You couldn’t get it up? She rejected you? Oh, that’s it. She doesn’t like the hot-stud movie star type.” Liza pointed her cell at him. “You know, all I need to do is to be in the same room as you two. I’ll find out how she really feels. Easy fix for you.”
“No!” Tony snapped a little too quickly that he surprised even himself.
Did he not want to know? Was he afraid? Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was used to everyone liking him. So why not her?
“I’ll find out on my own,” he growled.
With that last word, he swung his legs over the bed and left, smiling to himself as Liza shouted after him, “You’re welcome!”
Tony spent the next few days hiding out in his apartment, avoiding phone calls and doing every kind of reconnaissance he could think of on one Miss Bailey Haze. Being a hermit helped keep his power safely below catastrophic levels. But his agent called. His producer called. The studio publicist called. He’d ignored them all until finally, on the fourth morning of hiding, he could hide no longer. He had a press junket booked to promote the new movie later that evening. It meant he had to go out into the real world, and that meant he’d have to call Bailey.
She’d not called him.
He tried to sort through his thoughts but came up with nothing satisfying. She was being professional. She worked for Nightingale Securities,
and Max doled out the jobs. Tony should approach him if he needed her again. But because he’d been avoiding contact with Bailey, he’d had to be rigorously studious about keeping his sin in balance, which meant keeping an eye on his bio-indicated Yin-Yang tattoo, and using Griffin’s method of timing any gluttonous act by balancing it out with an equally weighted act of temperance. He caved to a craving once, denied it the next. The last thing he needed was to be out of balance and to accidentally blow a hole through his apartment floor.
Timing everything he did was tedious, and boring, and he’d rather pluck his eyebrows out than have to keep doing it. He didn’t know how Griffin had managed it for so long.
But now time was running out. He’d not uncovered any more information about Bailey’s CIA history on his own, even with the family’s artificial intelligent management interface, AIMI. The in-house computer was a source of much intel for Tony, but there were places she couldn’t hack because her program forbade it. But Sloan programed AIMI. She could also hack into the CIA records.
Grabbing his cell phone and wallet, Tony shoved the two items in his distressed jeans pockets and checked his appearance in the mirror.
“Where’s Sloan at, AIMI?” he asked the air.
“Good morning, Tony Spazarus,” came the female computerized voice over his apartment’s internal speakers. “Sloan Lazarus, the Queen of all Things, requests that her whereabouts remain unknown for the next minute and twenty-five seconds.”
Tony’s fingers paused mid swipe on his hair. Tony Spazarus? You’ve got to be kidding me. He clenched his jaw and waited a few minutes and then asked AIMI again. This time, she replied with, “The Queen of all Things is currently in her apartment. Would you like me to call her?”
“No. That’s fine. I’ll head over now.”
“Would you like me to notify her you’re on your way?”
“No. Just lock the apartment after me.”
Normally he left his rooms unlocked, but Bailey’s paranoia was rubbing off. He took a deep breath and headed down a level to Sloan’s apartment door. After a knock, Max opened it. He folded his arms across his black Nightingale Securities shirt and gave Tony a judgmental once over.
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