Powerless

by Tera Lynn Childs

  According to Jeremy, that tiny piece of metal and plastic will give him undetectable control of Mr. Malone’s system. Which means he’ll be able to monitor the entire building.

  Between that and using Luther’s pass to gain access to the systems in the security office, we pretty much control the entire facility.

  My phone beeps with a text from Jeremy.

  Lifted signal jammer

  Ur good to go

  This bldg is pwned

  “We’re in.” I peer into the hallway, making sure the guards are gone.

  Quiet as little spy mice, Rebel and I hurry to the elevators. My heart races as we wait for one to arrive. I sincerely hope that Jeremy is already looping footage of an empty elevator car and disguising the location signal to make the guards think it’s still at lobby level.

  As Rebel and I step inside, I hold my breath, swipe the fake ID card, and punch the button for sub-level two. The elevator moves swiftly, gliding past the lobby without a pause. When it gets to sub-level two, I fling an arm across Rebel’s chest before she can take a step forward.

  She gives me a curious look, and I take a step back.

  Nothing happens.

  What? she mouths.

  Maybe her weight is confusing the sensor. I pull her back with me.

  Still nothing.

  I swipe the card. Again. Nothing. Again.

  “Shit.”

  The pained look on her face is unmistakable. “It’s not working?”

  I pull out my text and shoot Jeremy a message.

  Rear doors wont open

  Can u force?

  I wait for what feels like an eternity, but it is only a few seconds.

  Nothing in sec sys

  Trying cmd cntrl

  Which I interpret to mean he’s going to try accessing Mr. Malone’s computer to see if there’s anything he can do through there.

  While we wait, Rebel gets impatient. She stomps to the button panel, triggering the front door to open. She jabs at the sub-level two button over and over again. When the door slides shut, she returns to the back of the car with me.

  Nothing.

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  The rear door looks just as much like a wall as it did earlier tonight. I press my palms against the cool metal surface, trying to use the friction of my skin to force the door open. Without super strength it’s pointless.

  “Let me try,” Rebel says.

  She squints, focuses as she throws her whole power into moving the hidden door.

  Not even a budge.

  It’s as if they’ve welded the door shut from the other side.

  For all I know they have.

  My phone dings.

  No good

  Nothing about sekrit lvl anywhere

  I groan and smack my forehead against the back wall.

  Rebel lets out a growl to rival Dante’s and starts beating on every surface in the elevator. It’s not going to get us any closer to sub-level three, but Rebel needs to let out some of her frustration.

  “Now what?” she snaps as she whirls to face me. “How do we get down to Deacon?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  Another text from Jeremy.

  Guard on move

  Get back upstairs

  Our time is up. If we’d found Deacon, then it wouldn’t matter if the guards discovered we were missing. But we don’t want to raise any alarms. Not when we’re going to need access to the building again. The last thing we want is for them to lock the whole place down.

  “We have to go.” I press the button for the third floor.

  I shoot Jeremy a quick text asking him to stall Luther. Hopefully he can hold the other elevator long enough to let us get back to Mr. Malone’s office.

  “You’re giving up?” Rebel throws me a fierce scowl as the elevator rises. “You’re just going to let them kill Deacon?”

  I ignore the barb. “No, but it took me half the night to find this access. I don’t know how to make it work again, and I have no clue where to start looking for another way to get down there.” I watch the floor numbers tick by impatiently. “If Luther and Travis get a whiff of what we’re doing, neither of us will ever be allowed in the building again. And that will make it virtually impossible to get Deacon out.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, but doesn’t argue.

  I glance at Jeremy’s response.

  Can’t

  He’s taking stairs

  I mutter a foul curse. Think, Kenna, think.

  “Do you have lip balm?”

  “What?” she retorts. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are your lips getting chapped while my boyfriend’s twin is downstairs dying?”

  I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Luther is taking the stairs,” I explain. “If we don’t have a good reason for not being in your dad’s office when he gets back…”

  “Red flags and sirens,” she finishes. Without another word, Rebel hands over the tube she always keeps in her pocket.

  I palm the cap and twist the balm all the way out. Grabbing the contents, I mash it between my palms until it forms a gooey, chunky paste. Without bothering to explain, I slide my palms over Rebel’s blond spikes, leaving little translucent blobs of balm throughout.

  “Gross,” she says, but doesn’t stop me.

  The display indicates we’re passing the second floor, so I grab her around the waist and tug her tight against my side.

  “Put your weight on me,” I instruct. “And hang your head.”

  She does, just as the doors open.

  I quickly move us across the hall. There is a ladies’ room about three doors down. With the disgusting clumps in her hair, it should look like that’s where we’re coming from, like Rebel’s been hugging the porcelain throne.

  We start a lopsided trek back to Mr. Malone’s office. Hopefully Luther will be too worried to wonder why we didn’t just use the private restroom en suite.

  “And moaning,” I tell her. “Moaning would be good.”

  Rebel belts out groans that sound like a dying cow.

  The sound of the stairwell door slamming shut echoes down the hall.

  “Come on, Reb,” I say loudly. “We’re almost there.”

  We round the corner, right as Luther is stepping back out of the empty office, a small bottle of orange juice clutched in his hand.

  He looks relieved when he sees us.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Oh, just peachy.” I struggle to hold my best friend on her feet. “We’re at the dry-heaving stage.”

  On cue, Rebel makes a gut-wrenching sound so believable that I almost expect to see chunks.

  Luther’s face twists into a mix of concern and revulsion. “Maybe she needs to go to the emergency room?”

  Another round of fake-heaving.

  “No, no,” I insist. “I just need to get her home and to bed.”

  Luther nods enthusiastically.

  “Can you help me get her downstairs?”

  He rushes to Rebel’s other side faster than I can blink. He hands me the juice and takes her weight from me. A minute later, we’re in the lobby.

  Rebel and I are almost in the clear, but that leaves Jeremy trapped in the security office. He may have forgiven me for our breakup fight, but he won’t take so kindly to being left to fend for himself with the SHPD.

  I hook my foot around Rebel’s ankle, sending her stumbling toward the guards’ desk. She lands against the side with a heavy thud and proceeds to dry-heave in Travis’s general direction.

  He rushes out from behind the desk and takes Rebel’s other side. “Here, let me give you a hand.”

  I clear my throat loudly, and Rebel manages a stumble that sends all three of them to the floor. The guard des
k now blocks their view of both the security office and the front door.

  I shoot Jeremy a text. Now.

  In a flash, he’s sprinting for the door faster than I’ve ever seen him move. He unlocks the door, dropping the security pass on the ground as he races into the night.

  “Are you okay, Miss Malone?” Luther asks, climbing back to his feet and helping her up.

  She groans, sways a little, and then latches herself to my side.

  “I think I can take it from here,” I say, flashing them a long-suffering smile.

  Travis’s eyes widen. “If you’re sure…”

  I nod and start for the door. He hurries ahead of us to unlock it, only to jerk back, confused, when he sees his security pass lying on the ground. Better he thinks he dropped it there than raise a red flag by it going missing.

  “Thanks for everything!” I push past him, not waiting for him to ask the inevitable questions forming in his mind. “I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Malone how much you helped!”

  Travis’s frown turns into a proud grin. “Anything for the boss.”

  Oh yeah, I’ll totally be telling the evil king of the superheroes how his guards let us sneak into his top secret facility and his office. Mr. Malone would love that.

  “The guys are going to be pissed,” Rebel whispers as we make our way toward the sidewalk.

  “Maybe Jeremy found something,” I suggest.

  At this point, he’s our only hope.

  Chapter 14

  Rebel cries the entire way back to the Lair. It hurts me to see her in this kind of emotional pain, especially when I know it’s my fault that we didn’t get Deacon tonight. It’s my fault they changed the security protocols on the secret sub-level. It has to be.

  I shouldn’t beat myself up. Logically, I know that if I hadn’t been down there—hadn’t seen Deacon with my own eyes—there would be no proof that the secret sub-level exists, let alone what’s going on down there.

  But that knowledge is cold comfort. I hug Rebel and try to figure out what to do next. How’re we going to save Deacon and my mother when we can’t get back to sub-level three? If that’s even where my mother is. She’s not a villain. She doesn’t belong there, and she has friends at the lab. Really, she could be anywhere.

  And how are we going to face Draven and Dante when we’ve failed to get Deacon back? Just the thought of Draven’s reaction makes my stomach hurt—not because I’m afraid of him, but because I’ve seen how much this weighs on him. On both of them. I know how every second feels like a year and every hour feels like an eternity.

  I’ve felt that way since the moment I saw Deacon. And it only got worse when I walked into my house and my mother was missing.

  The ride to the nightclub from the lab feels excruciatingly long, but when Jeremy pulls up in front of the Lair all I can think is, it’s too soon. I don’t have an explanation. I don’t know how to tell Draven and Dante what happened without causing them more pain. I don’t—

  Nitro meets us in the parking lot, throwing open the van door before we even come to a complete stop.

  “Deacon!” He climbs inside, but his face falls when he sees Rebel’s tear-streaked cheeks.

  “Oh, God. Is he—” Nitro turns white and looks like he’s going to pass out.

  “We couldn’t get to him.” My words come out in a rush. “They’ve sealed off access to that sub-level and we couldn’t find another way in. Not without tipping off the guards and blowing our cover.”

  “Shit.” Nitro rubs both hands over his head and climbs out of the van. “How could you screw this up? You promised this plan was airtight. Draven and Dante are going to kill us. You know that, right?”

  Rebel whimpers, and I pat her back a couple times, shooting Nitro a warning glare.

  “We couldn’t have known,” I argue.

  He ignores me. “I knew it. I knew better than to trust a couple of heroes to handle something this important.”

  “Is that really how you want to play this?” Jeremy comes to my side and stands over Nitro.

  Jeremy may be lean, but he has almost a foot over the angry villain.

  Nitro doesn’t look impressed. “I’m not playing anything. Just stating the truth, yeah?” His British accent is out in full force. “You wankers failed, didn’t you? You talked me into locking up my two best mates, and then you bloody well screwed up. A guy can’t be blamed for thinking maybe you did it on purpose.”

  Rebel starts to sob harder, which makes me see red. I advance on Nitro. “Must be nice. Easy for you to stand there criticizing when you didn’t have a better plan. We risked everything tonight!”

  “You think you’re the only ones?” he scoffs. “I’ve got two of the most dangerous villains in the bloody world locked in my refrigerator. You obviously don’t know what they’ve spent the last hour and a half threatening to do to me when they finally get out.”

  Screw it. Dante and Draven already know about my immunity. What’s one more villain at this point, especially since he’s their best friend? They’ll probably tell him anyway, the first chance they get. “At least I found the secret sub-level! You couldn’t even do that.”

  “Because of you!” He doesn’t look surprised that Draven’s brainwashing didn’t stick, which proves that Dante and Draven spilled the beans while we were gone.

  Typical. Can’t trust villains, can’t trust heroes… Who the hell am I supposed to trust?

  “You almost killed me with that fire extinguisher!”

  “Yeah, well, almost doesn’t count. If it did, Rebel and I would have Deacon right now.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it. You lousy hero-worshipper—”

  “Hey!” Rebel finally pulls herself together and climbs out of the van. “Don’t call her that!”

  “Or what?” Nitro glows a little, the air above his hands tinged green as he starts to lose his grip on his power. At least I assume he’s losing his grip—maybe he’s doing it on purpose. At this point, who can tell?

  “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.” Jeremy’s joined the fray now, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rebel and me as he stares down Nitro.

  “Yeah, right. ’Cuz I’m scared of a nerdy technopath.” Flames lick along Nitro’s fingers.

  “You should be.” Jeremy takes a step forward and I know that if I don’t stop this right here, right now, the situation’s going to get out of control. Testosterone is such a pain in the ass.

  But just as I slide myself between the two of them, the door to the club flies open and Draven and Deacon sail into the parking lot. They’re both bruised and bloody and more than a little frantic. When they see us, they do double takes, then race full tilt toward us.

  “What the hell!” Dante roars.

  “How did you get out?” Nitro demands. When they turn to glare at him, he shrinks back, half hiding behind Rebel.

  Not that I blame him. I’ve seen Draven go from surly to tortured to furious in the short time I’ve known him, but never have I seen him this enraged. If his expression—and the way his bruised hands are trembling—is anything to go by, he’s about two seconds from ripping us to pieces.

  All of us.

  Draven doesn’t hesitate. He reaches past Rebel to grab the lapels of Nitro’s leather jacket and yanks him off his feet. “Let’s just say you and Quake are going to need a new fridge.”

  “It’s not his fault,” I insist. “We asked him to help.”

  “Bloody brilliant idea that was,” Nitro snaps.

  I glare at him. Not helping.

  I wrap my hands around Draven’s forearms and yank, as if I’m going to have any effect on him in this state.

  To my utter amazement, he actually relaxes. He lowers Nitro to the ground.

  “Where is my brother?” Dante peers into the van.

  The silence is deafening—taut and terrib
le and terrifying. The next thing I know, Dante’s whirling, advancing on Jeremy and me with his hands curled into fists. “Where. Is. Deacon?”

  “We couldn’t get to him!” Rebel says in a rush, throwing herself against his chest and starting to sob all over again.

  His arms wrap around her, his hands stroking her back. But his back is ramrod straight and his face is dark. “What does that mean?” he demands. “Deacon’s still in that hellhole?”

  “They’ve closed off access to the sub-level where they’re holding him. We couldn’t get down there,” I say. But it’s not Dante I’m talking to, not really. It’s Draven.

  He’s calm, the calmest person out here in fact. But somehow that doesn’t reassure me.

  “So you just left him,” Draven accuses. “You didn’t even try to get him out.”

  “We couldn’t!” Rebel tells him. “We tried but Kenna’s access route was blocked off.”

  “That’s it?” Draven sneers. “The way was blocked off so you gave up? Wow, you guys really are hero material.”

  “Back off,” I tell him, slapping a hand against his chest and shoving lightly. “We did the best we could with what we had.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s awfully convenient that the three of you trapped us here in a tin can while you went off to save the world.” His face is a mask of rage and resentment. “Except you didn’t save anyone, did you? Was that the plan all along?”

  I gasp. “You think we left Deacon there on purpose?”

  “I don’t think you tried very hard to get him out.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, moron, they have my mother too!” I know he’s upset, but this is nuts. “You think I’d walk away without trying to find her if there was any other way?’”

  He takes a step forward, so we’re standing inches from each other. His head tilts down and mine tilts up as we face off.

  This is totally the wrong place and the wrong time, but I can’t stop the thrill that sparks through me at the realization that he’s treating me like an equal. He’s not pulling his punches, not treating me like some fragile little ordinary. Maybe it’s because he thinks immunity is my power, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t realize I’m not a super. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he understands that I’m just as strong as he is.