Sunroper (Goddesses Rising)

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  In hour five, it was Anson’s turn to monitor again. He sat on the living room sofa with his laptop, holding the headset to one ear. Gage sat splayed across a hard-looking easy chair. Marley collected a bowl of water and the first-aid kit and knelt on the floor by the coffee table to change her bandage.

  “Wouldn’t that be easier in the bathroom?” Anson suggested.

  “I can’t hear from the bathroom. I don’t want to miss anything.” She tucked her T-shirt under the edge of her bra to keep it out of the way and felt Gage’s eyes lock on to her. She picked at the adhesive holding on the waterproof bandage until she had enough to grab, then tried to pull. She was used to hiding things but couldn’t help her lips rolling inward when three kinds of pain hit. Pressing against the skin incited a sharp stab of warning from her body. The cut itself throbbed harder, and the skin under the adhesive stung and burned as she tried to pull the tape off.

  But then Gage was at her side, his hands brushing hers away. “Let me do it. I have a better angle.”

  She didn’t want to let him that close, but the pain was making her dizzy. The awkward twisting to try to reach the whole area didn’t help, so she let him take over. His hands were incredibly gentle as they pried the tape away from her skin, going so slowly and pressing so gently that the pain subsided to a tolerable level.

  He balled up the soiled bandage and tossed it into the empty grocery bag she’d brought in for trash, and then he sat back on his heels while she studied the wound. She prodded a couple of places with her finger and detected no heat, a common sign of infection. Some of the stitch points looked annoyed, and she knew that was probably from wiggling her way through the ductwork downstairs. But those were the only spots of redness, and the edges had begun to seal in most places.

  “Looks good,” Gage confirmed. “You’re lucky.”

  “She should take antibiotics anyway,” Anson said. “I got some when I was out earlier.”

  Gage eyed him. “On a Sunday. Without a prescription.”

  Anson didn’t answer and didn’t even bother looking back. He bent to listen to the headset, then shook his head at Marley to indicate whatever he heard wasn’t relevant.

  After a few seconds, Gage opened the first-aid kit and pulled out a tube of ointment. His fingers smoothed on the antibacterial cream so lightly that Marley had to close her eyes to fight the waves of pleasure radiating over the top of the pain.

  She needed a distraction. “About your brother’s friends,” she said to Gage.

  “You mean Chris, Brad, and Tony?”

  “Yeah. They haven’t taken flux.”

  Gage whipped his head up. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. There’s no sign of it in them at all.”

  He scowled. “That would have been nice to know earlier.” But some tension seemed to have left the corners of his eyes, and his movements were a little easier than they’d been all day. Marley watched him screw the top on the tube and wipe his fingers with a paper towel, not understanding why he was so bothered that she hadn’t told him about it.

  And then she felt stupid. Of course—it was about Aiden. She’d said earlier that flux could be damaging these guys, and Jesus, with his mother’s history, he had to be terrified of what it would do to his brother. If his friends hadn’t taken it, maybe Aiden hadn’t, either.

  “I’m sorry.” She touched his hand, and when his gaze met hers, she let him see her regret. “That was thoughtless. I should have mentioned it sooner.” She could blame the kiss for muddling her brain but that would be admitting too much.

  To her relief, Gage nodded his acceptance of her apology.

  “Why would they push it so hard to all the other guys and not use it themselves?” she asked.

  “Plenty of possible reasons.” Gage handed her a roll of tape. “A smart drug dealer doesn’t use his own product.”

  “Because he knows it’s dangerous,” she agreed. She tore strips of adhesive off the roll, lining them up along the edge of the table. “So maybe they know something about flux that they’re not telling anyone.”

  “Or it’s too new,” Gage offered. “Smart businesspeople don’t invest in something until they know everything it can do.”

  “Or they’re getting everything they want from dealing and don’t need it.” She held the plastic-backed gauze Gage laid over her wound while he taped the edges.

  “Like what? Money?”

  He shook his head. He reached to loosen her shirt and let his knuckles glide down her rib cage while he lowered the fabric. She shivered, and he quirked a small grin at her before moving away to gather up the trash. “Those guys, the ones they’re selling to or trading with, they don’t have enough money to make it worth it. Most of them had fathers who lost everything because they were stupid and greedy.”

  Anson suddenly lurched forward, yanked the cord out of the laptop, and tossed the headset on the table. “Listen.”

  “—from upstate last month. Jared and Vincent were last-minute additions because they missed the last ceremony because of work obligations.”

  Marley didn’t recognize the voice. Gage had told her the second speaker at the apartment had been Brad, so this guy must be Tony.

  “Cress might not like that.” Christopher’s voice. His use of a nickname was telling. “She needs to know this stuff in advance. She might not have enough flux to spread around.”

  “No, it’s okay. I talked to her upstate. She’s cool with it.”

  Silence. Then, “When did you talk to her upstate when I wasn’t around?”

  Chris sounded possessive. Marley exchanged a look with Gage. He’d heard it, too.

  But Chris’s buddy didn’t seem concerned. He didn’t challenge or raise his voice when he replied. “After the barn, when you were getting the car.”

  “When’s she coming down?” asked a third guy. Brad.

  “I’m going upstairs to get her at nine twenty. We’ll come down about nine thirty. You got beer and shit, right?”

  “Yeah, couple a sixers. These guys are lightweights. Not like the last batch.” They all laughed. “Some chips and dip, frozen chicken wings I’ll throw in the oven. They don’t need a lot.”

  “So, same as always? Lube ’em up so they’ll be cool for the presentations. Let them sell her on the viability of their business plans. She decides how much flux they get, then they wallow in it until we kick them out and do our thing with Cressida?”

  Marley made a face. What thing? She blamed Gage’s kiss for making her think something sexual, but Tony’s tone didn’t imply that. It was more like whatever passed between the goddess and her toadies was kept private. Maybe it was payment, but which way? Cressida paying the guys for bringing her new customers or the guys paying her on behalf of their friends?

  How many had gone through this process and for how long? The film producer’s success and Pettle’s rise in the NFL meant at least a year. Depending on how many stages and little ceremonies they had and how often they held meetings, Lahr could have already done this with a lot of kids. The Deimons Marley had nullified so far might only be a tiny percentage.

  A bigger picture was forming, and every piece they exposed fed her despair of ever being able to stop it. They’d just keep finding new kids to fill with illicit power, and those kids would find ways to cheat and lie and take what they wanted without deserving it. She was sure there were smarter, more discreet fluxheads who’d escaped her notice and would now have an easier time avoiding her, too, since the guys at the barn could now describe her and what she did.

  It sounded like they were keeping the distribution of flux under careful control. But the kids wouldn’t stand for that forever. They’d want more, and they would resent the authority and restrictiveness of this system. Eventually, they’d get enough flux to allow them to leech someone. If they didn’t already know it was possible, there were easy ways to find out, thanks to Marley. That put all goddesses at risk again. And it didn’t even include the possibilities if the splinter
groups caught wind of this. They knew more about leeching than the Deimons did. Some of them had set Anson on that path in the first place. If they found out a goddess was actually selling power? That was something they could understand. Once they bought in, they could drain any goddess they wanted, upping their power and eliminating any perceived threat the Society posed to Numina.

  No. She halted the spiral of doom before it could drag her down. They could prevent that. Once they stopped Cressida Lahr, there’d be no more flux to exploit. Marley could track down and nullify those who already had it. Everyone would be safe. And then she could finally, maybe, be at peace.

  The discussion coming over the speaker wrapped up the final details of the evening, and then the guys apparently spread out into separate rooms. The mic kicked off for only a few seconds before music activated it again.

  Anson turned down the volume and stared at Marley. “I know what to do.”

  Chapter Eight

  The abilities that are our birthright carry a heavy responsibility and must be used with discrimination and integrity.

  —Numina manifesto, revised

  “I

  ’m going in.”

  “I knew you were going to say that.” Marley folded her arms. “I don’t think so.”

  “I know their add-ons—Jared and Vincent. They were two of mine.”

  “Two of your what?” Gage asked.

  Marley glared at Anson. “Let’s talk in the kitchen for a minute.” She tried to even out her expression so Gage wouldn’t see how furious she was when she turned to him. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” His mouth curved knowingly, but his eyes were darker, harder, than usual. Marley wondered what he thought he knew and why it apparently bothered him.

  “I’ll keep listening.” He sat in front of the laptop and picked up a pad of Anson’s notes.

  She led Anson into the kitchen and stuck her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He shrugged and went to the counter to dig a handful of almonds out of a bag. “I’m helping.”

  “I don’t want Gage to know who you are. He doesn’t know anything about those kids you hired last spring, or what you did to Riley and Quinn. He doesn’t know you were the leech.” When Anson had come into the kitchen earlier and made his comment about her gift to him, she’d been afraid Gage would pick up undercurrents. If he had, he hadn’t said anything, and she wanted to keep it that way.

  Anson leaned against the sink and crossed his ankles. “Why does that bother you?”

  She dropped her hands. “It will be more difficult for all of us to work together if he knows you’re even more responsible for all of this than I am.”

  “I don’t think you care what he thinks of me.” He said it so matter-of-factly and watched her so calmly that it was clear he definitely didn’t care.

  “Of course I care. I’ve—”

  “What? Forgiven me?” He snorted and brushed off his palms. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Marley. That’s not why I’m here. And if your good graces don’t matter, neither do his. I think you don’t want him to know because it will reflect badly on you.”

  She scowled and folded her arms. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You’ve taken responsibility for my actions already. What does it matter if he knows the extent of those actions?”

  She was so not going to discuss Gage with Anson. “Why are you here, then, if my forgiveness isn’t part of it?”

  He braced his hands on the counter’s edge. “Wrongs need to be righted. You have the tools to right them, and I have skills that can help you. It’s as simple as that.”

  Nothing in his actions over the past few months belied that. At first she’d thought he was just grateful to her for nullifying him, but he consistently supported her quest to keep the Deimons from causing the kind of harm he had. She had no grounds for disputing him, but something didn’t ring completely true.

  And it might have to do with Cressida Lahr. “You seem pretty eager to get into the room with the goddess.”

  He didn’t blink, didn’t look away, didn’t fidget. “She’s the target. I have a connection.”

  Marley’s idea now felt like the worst one ever, and she was glad she hadn’t voiced it earlier. “And what are you planning to do when you get in there?”

  “Gather information. Find out if she has a weakness we can exploit. At the least, we’ll have someone on the inside going forward.”

  She didn’t like it. There was no reason to think he was lying to her, but she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

  “Come on.” He pushed away from the counter, sweeping a small, plastic orange bottle off the surface and handing it to Marley. “Take one of these, and there are some pain pills in the first-aid kit.” He passed her, heading for the doorway. “It’s better if no one goes in alone anyway. Backup and all that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re usually backup on the outside.” She followed him back to the living room and with jerky, annoyed movements, dumped one antibiotic and one pain pill into her palm before swallowing them dry.

  Gage looked up from the laptop. “The mic won’t go on standby with the music on. That battery will run out before the meeting time.”

  Marley sank down beside him on the sofa. The plush cushions enticed her to lie back and close her eyes. The gain from her scant hours of sleep had been used up with her trip through the ducts. “Not much we can do about that.”

  Anson stood in front of the coffee table. “Okay, so, I’ll intercept Jared and Vincent in the lobby and get them to take me up. Then I’ll talk them into letting me stay.”

  “How do you know them again?” Gage leaned to tap the volume button on the computer and then rested his forearms on his knees, hands folded between them. It was a casual pose, but Marley was close enough to recognize that his tension had returned.

  “They used to work for me. I ran a company in Atlanta until last spring.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s an odd coincidence.”

  Marley took a deep breath. Gage wasn’t buying it. But trying to deflect or ignore him would just make the man more determined to dig, so she wouldn’t bother trying. She rocked back onto her feet and stood. The room twisted and folded like a fun-house image. She held herself motionless until everything slid back into place and told herself she’d better eat something before the meeting. Passing out in the middle of it probably wouldn’t get her the results she wanted.

  And if the twisting and folding was worse than typical light-headedness from low blood sugar? Well, she was just going to ignore that for now.

  “I want to be in there, too,” she said, “but for obvious reasons I can’t do it the same way. I need to hide somewhere. If we have an opportunity to take action, it will be better if we have two on the inside, one outside.”

  “What kind of action are we talking about?” Gage asked, rising. “Will you kill her?”

  “No!” Anson and Marley said together.

  Gage looked between them, his expression amused. “Okay. Just wanted to know where the line is drawn.”

  Marley bent to retrieve the rolled-up blueprints from the table and shuffled them until she found the sheet with a standard apartment layout. “I can go in by the ductwork again. The grate where I hid the living room mic doesn’t give me a view, though.” The main duct, which was barely large enough for her to slither through, fed down into a recess and to an opening at the top of the wall. That feed was only about eighteen inches wide, and there was no way she’d have an angle to see anything. She had to find a better place to hide.

  “You can’t go through the ductwork,” Gage said. “I can’t fit in there.”

  “We can’t all be inside,” Anson argued. “Someone needs to monitor from here.”

  “No way. This is too far away if something goes wrong.”

  “Guys.” Marley shook the building plans. “Stop arguing. Anson has the in, so he should use it. Gage, if I thought your brother’s friends w
ould let you in, I’d say it should be you. But we know that’s unlikely.”

  He scowled but didn’t disagree with her. “I can hide just as well as you can.”

  “And double our chances of getting caught.” She wished she didn’t believe what she was saying. She would prefer to keep Anson away from a goddess doling out power. The Deimons she’d nullified couldn’t get more flux, but she didn’t know if that meant they couldn’t get any other power. By the same token, the damage Anson had done to himself, combined with Marley’s nullification, should mean he couldn’t take in power from any goddess.

  But Cressida Lahr wasn’t just any goddess, and Marley didn’t want to take any chances.

  On the other hand, they’d heard them tell that kid this morning that bypassing protocol wasn’t allowed. So if Anson was good enough to talk his way in and get them to let him stay, he probably wouldn’t get any flux even if he was able to accept it.

  And if he did, she’d nullify him immediately.

  She traced the lines on the sheet until she found a possible way in. “Here. I can take this one down into the laundry room. It’s got a bigger intake vent. I can squeeze through there and maybe…” She thought hard. “Okay, I know this is a little adventure movieish, but do you have a silent drill I can make a peephole with?”

  “You can’t hide in the laundry room,” Gage protested. “They’ll find you. And they know who you are now. They might not have the same no-kill policy you two do.”

  Marley lowered the blueprints. “You don’t have a no-kill policy?” It hadn’t occurred to her, even when he’d asked, that he might not have any qualms about taking a life. In everything that had happened over the last five years, even with every awful thing she’d allowed to occur and Anson had actively done, no one had died as a result. Marley wouldn’t let it happen now, no matter how much damage Lahr did, directly or indirectly.

  Gage spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t plan to kill anyone. That’s not the point. The point is that you don’t know the desperation level of the people who will be in that room. They know that even newly fluxed, they couldn’t stop you. One of them knifed you already!”