No Love for the Wicked

by Powell, Megan

  The subtle edge behind his calm words gave me pause. “I had to leave, Thirteen—you know that. It had nothing to do with you or the Network or the team. There was just too much going on. I mean, you saw what happened, what I turned into. How could I be around everyone else after that?”

  I looked down at my hands. Such slight, feminine things that could turn so terrifying and grotesque. And they weren’t the only part of me that could transform. I remembered that night with Markus, how my face had contorted into such a monstrous sight, with glowing red eyes and a mouthful of sharp teeth. Thank God I had control over that now.

  “Your team knew from the beginning that you had preternatural abilities.”

  “It wasn’t the same, and you know it.” I cleared my throat to keep my voice from wavering. “I killed my own brother.”

  “You saved the lives of several Network agents, including mine.”

  “I became something else. I was transformed into some kind of beast and ripped Markus’s throat out with my teeth. Everyone on the team thought I was a monster.”

  “No,” Thirteen said, setting his untouched whiskey on the table. “No one thought that about you.” I gave him a dry look. “They were intimidated by the level of power that you wielded, but that was all. If you had stayed long enough to hear their thoughts, you would have known that.”

  He was wrong. I had heard their thoughts. “I had no choice.”

  Thirteen peered down at me, his lips in a tight line. “You had a choice to remain in contact. You chose not to.”

  The urge to look away nearly undid me, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I needed time, Thirteen. To understand what was happening to me. The powers inside me have changed since I escaped from the estate. Some have gotten stronger. Some I never even realized I had before. I knew the changes were happening while I was training the team last year, and I thought I could handle it. But when I turned into that…thing, I knew I needed to get control over myself, and I couldn’t do it here.”

  “Why not here?” he said sharply. For the first time, I saw the hurt behind his commanding blue eyes. “I could have helped you. The Network has resources that could explain why your powers were acting up.”

  “No, they don’t have resources for this, Thirteen. Not when it comes to my powers. You might have been able to help me deal if it had been one of those traits that all people with supernatural powers share, but it wasn’t the extra strength and speed that I needed to worry about. I’m not like the other people the Network monitors. You know that. Hell, I’m not even like the other people in my family. I don’t have just one ability, like Uncle Max’s telepathy or Father’s telekinesis. I can do everything they can do and more. It was the more that I needed to get control over.”

  “And did you get the control you felt you needed?”

  I poured another finger of whiskey. “I wouldn’t have come back unless I had.”

  He nodded, but I knew he wasn’t satisfied. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well, whatever your reasons for leaving,” he said finally, “I’m glad you’ve decided to return.”

  I let out a long breath and felt like a balloon deflating. He wasn’t really mad at me. I felt like I’d just lost fifteen pounds in thirty seconds.

  “It was time,” I said. “And like I said before, I have total control over that whole claw-and-beast thing now. No transforming unless I want to.”

  Thirteen’s expression went carefully blank. “And have you? Wanted to, that is?”

  I thought about the predators I’d tracked while honing that particular ability. The rush I felt after each surge of transforming power. “I have control over it. That’s all that matters.”

  He eyed me a moment longer, then picked up his whiskey again. “So now that you’ve returned, what are your plans? If you don’t mind me asking.” There was still a carefulness to his words that made me want to kick myself for not checking in before now.

  “Well, I figured, you know, that I could, like…help. Again.” His expression stayed blank. “I know your task force doesn’t really need any more training to fight my family’s powers, but you said I was a part of the team—that I’d always be a part of the team.”

  “Are you certain that’s what you want? If I recall, joining the front lines in the fight to bring your father and uncles to justice wasn’t always an ambition you wanted to pursue. And if what you say about their reactions to other supernaturals is true, rejoining your team means taking a greater risk than simply exposing your continued existence.”

  I took another long drink. Power grew warm beneath my skin. I thought of the years I’d spent at the mercy of my sadistic father. The pain. The blood. The experiments and unending hatred. My family might have brought horror to their adversaries, but that was nothing compared to what had been done to me. How many times had Father killed me, only to have my powers bring me back? How many times had my brothers stalked me or watched in excitement as Father and Uncle Max tried out a new method of torture for their enemies on me?

  “I’m not scared of them anymore,” I said. With deliberate control, I flexed my power until it was a warm hum of energy in the air around us. Thirteen lifted his arm, watched all the hairs stand on end.

  “Returning to your team is about more than just control over your powers.” Thirteen lowered his arm to his side. “A team has to trust each other to accomplish their missions. You left. You’ll have to prove to them that they can trust you again.”

  I almost laughed. “They never trusted me.”

  “Trust is a two-way street.”

  I rolled my eyes. “OK, how about this: if we can make it through an entire meeting without Shane or Charles attacking me, or Marie accusing me of plotting against the Network on behalf of my family, I’ll consider trusting more of them than just Heather.” And Theo. I trusted Theo maybe even more than I trusted Thirteen. I didn’t think Thirteen needed to know that right now.

  Finally, he let out a quiet sigh. “Go get cleaned up.”

  I threw back the rest of my whiskey and bounded back to my room with an excited spring in my step. Thirty seconds later we were headed out the door.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Where are we going anyway? Your offices are off I-70.” I squinted down the highway and then looked at Thirteen in the driver’s seat for an answer.

  “Kelch Incorporated’s headquarters are expanding—a result of your father’s most recent pharmaceutical acquisition. Several of the buildings surrounding the Kelch Inc. compound have had to redistrict. The Network moved our local offices to the Chase Tower.”

  Ah yes, Father’s ever-increasing economic empire. Kelch Incorporated was a world leader in pharmaceutical research and development, military-grade weaponry, and over-the-counter consumer products. The family’s net worth reached far into the eleven-digit range on legitimate business alone. Add in the less-than-legal business, and that amount tripled. Secret supernatural power was easier to hide when you overflowed with more of the mainstream powers like business and politics.

  We exited from the highway and were immediately in the heart of Indianapolis. I’d seen several cities in the last couple of months: Chicago, New York, Boston, Saint Louis. Nothing compared to Indy. It had the skyscrapers, the street vendors, the business suits rushing here and there. But it also had a quaintness that the bigger cities lacked. People drove their own cars here, confident they’d find a parking spot. If you got confused on the one-way streets, you rolled down your window and called out to someone passing by, and that person would point the way without hesitation. People were nice here.

  How in the world my family ended up in a city like this, I had no idea.

  We pulled into the underground garage and parked in a reserved spot. I followed Thirteen to the bank of elevators, rode up to the main level, then walked with him past the sea of tile and glass that made up the building’s main lobby. We hopped on another elevator—a much nicer one decorated with the same deep green as
the lobby. When we reached our floor, we stepped out into a standard hallway. No artwork, no nameplates, no signs directing guests to various business suites. Just one set of double doors with no handles.

  “Not very welcoming,” I pointed out.

  “It’s not supposed to be.” He typed in a code on the keypad next to the door. I expected a click releasing the locks, but instead the keypad flipped open. Thirteen bent over, putting his face directly in front of the open pad. A red laser ran over his face, forehead to neck. The doors opened automatically.

  “Impressive,” I said. “Your old offices didn’t have any security like that.”

  He gave me a sideways glance. “I never took you to our old offices.”

  I shrugged. We both knew I had tailed him constantly in those early days of our acquaintance. And why wouldn’t I? I’d only known him as an enemy of my father. Why would I trust a guy who was supposed to hate me?

  Fortunately for both of us, he didn’t hate me. Turned out that as much as I was in need of a surrogate father, he had been in need of a daughter. At least with me, he knew that there would never be a time when he could lose me to the supernatural threats of his enemies. He hadn’t been so lucky with the child he’d lost.

  The doors closed behind us with a silent click. “We’re going straight through to the back office,” he said, leading the way.

  The majority of the work space we passed was one big bull pen. Dry-erase boards set up in various desk groups displayed names and timelines with arrows indicating relationships or connections. Agents I’d never seen talked on phones or buried their noses in laptops. No one paid us any attention as we made our way to the far end of the room.

  “How can all these people work together like this?” I asked. “I thought Network agents were anonymous to each other unless working directly on an assigned team.”

  “These aren’t field agents,” he explained. “They’re support. When an agent is having an issue with their assignment—the target is closing in on them, they require specific equipment or authorization, or the target they’re tracking has abilities the agent was unaware of—they call in to the support center. It takes a different kind of training to work in Network support. Right in here.”

  It was a corner office, of course, with a wide, proud desk and windows that overlooked the State Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument. Right now, enormous Christmas lights streamed down from the top of the memorial all the way to the street. At sunset, the city would light the colorful strands, making a giant Christmas tree, while carols played through the sidewalk speakers. I had seen the tree lit on TV once when I was young. Father’s temper had been running high, so he hadn’t bothered waiting until we were in one of the barns. He’d started beating me right there in his study.

  The guards found me in one of the more frequently used guest rooms. It had been risky for me to hide there, but it was the best place to eavesdrop on Malcolm and Markus’s tutoring session. Father never allowed me any kind of real education, so if I wanted to learn anything more than what I picked up through my mind reading, I had to listen in on my brothers’ lessons. The vents to this guest room connected directly to those in my brothers’ library. Risky or not, it was the best place to take notes. Of course, it was also one of the first places the guards looked whenever Father summoned me.

  When we reached Father’s study, the guards didn’t hesitate to toss me inside the elaborate office-like room and quickly leave, bolting the doors shut behind me. I knew instantly that this father-daughter session would be a bad one—his frustration over a failed business deal screamed in his thoughts. He’d hated me since the moment I was born, when he’d realized that the strength of my power surpassed anything he’d ever felt. Tonight, he needed to work out his anger, and what better way to do that than to beat senseless the only person who could take whatever damage he inflicted and still wake up the next morning ready for more? Me.

  The first hit came before I could brace myself. Blood poured into my mouth as the side of my face shattered. The pain was excruciating, but I didn’t care. This was just an anger session, where Father would beat me until I was a broken mess on his floor. I’d rather be Father’s punching bag a million times over than the guinea pig in one of his many experiments.

  It wasn’t too long before he complained that his fists weren’t creating enough damage; I wasn’t bleeding as much as he preferred. So he brought out the antique engraved blades he kept locked away in his office safe. An hour later, I pretended to be unconscious and peeked through swollen eyes to the big-screen TV built into the wall behind Father’s desk. Blood had pooled around my head; the side of my face was gone from the slicing cuts of Father’s razors. But from what I could make out, the monument lights had looked really pretty on the TV.

  Maybe I’d get the chance to see them for real sometime.

  “No one responded to you,” Thirteen said, pulling me back to the present.

  I turned to face him. He stood by the door, watching me. “The agents out in the bull pen,” he continued. “Not a single one noticed you any more than they would have any other young, attractive woman. How is that possible?”

  I knew what he was referring to, and I smiled a little in pride. “I can hold it back now. The sensual allure that radiates off me, it’s another aspect of my power that I’ve learned to control. It’s not hard—kind of like holding back a yawn—but I’ve found it’s easier to deal with people if I tone it down a bit.”

  Thirteen’s eyes glistened, and I could feel that he was impressed. My smile widened.

  He drew my attention to the opposite side of the room. “They’ve been questioning him for over two hours. I’d hoped they’d made more progress than this.”

  I stepped up beside him. The wall was actually the window side of a two-way mirror. The room next door was an interior conference room—no windows, only straining fluorescent lights. At the end of a long table, a middle-aged man sat sweating in his seat. He wore a uniform of some sort and had unbuttoned his collar. He tugged at it as if it still wasn’t loose enough. I’d never seen the man before. But the two men facing him sent my heart thumping.

  “It’s Jon and Charles!” I exclaimed, then slapped my hand over my mouth.

  “It’s OK,” Thirteen assured me. “They can’t hear you.”

  Jon Heldamo, my former teammate, stood at casual attention. His light-brown hair was trimmed and gelled perfectly. He wore a sports jacket and khaki pants that I knew weren’t required but were just his style. If Jon was here, chances were that Theo was somewhere close by. My body grew tingly as I reached out to the rest of the building. Fifty-two floors, a couple thousand people, but no Theo. Damn.

  As Jon spoke, he strolled behind the empty conference chairs, moving with the arrogant authority of a natural leader. He stopped a few seats away from the man being questioned and put his hands on the back of the chair where Charles Hilliby sat glaring.

  I stifled a cringe at the sight of Charles and his buzz-cut hair. Wearing heavy cargo pants and a tight black turtleneck, he looked every bit the angry ex-soldier I remembered him to be.

  “Who are they questioning?” I asked.

  “He’s a pilot,” Thirteen explained. “For the last two months he has been flying your father and Senator Kelch to various locations throughout Eastern Europe. Chang broke the encryption on the travel logs from the private airport they used, so we have times of departure and arrival but no recorded destinations. Captain Bennett here logged in as pilot for every flight. We believe the brothers have been making regular visits to somewhere outside Romania, but we need the pilot to confirm. Unfortunately, he seems to have absolutely no memory of ever flying your family anywhere.”

  Charles pounded his fist on the conference room table, making Captain Bennett jump in his seat. The captain ran his hands over his face, then held out his palms as if pleading. It was no use. They could beat him with questions all day long—hell, they could beat him with sticks all day long—it wasn’t going to c
hange the fact that Uncle Max had erased the man’s mind with his supernatural persuasion.

  “What do you usually do with victims of aggressive telepathy?” I asked, trying to sound official. This was the most exposure to inside Network workings that Thirteen had ever allowed me. I didn’t want to blow it by sounding unprofessional.

  “There is no ‘usually’ with this kind of power,” Thirteen replied. “If you recall, we were unaware that this level of mental manipulation even existed until you pointed it out to us. We have been able to recover some memories of a few minor informants using a sensitized serum that your teammate Cordele Bleu has developed. But when someone has experienced the level of specified neurological damage that this pilot has, it has little to no effect.”

  “Hmm,” I responded with a nod.

  His gaze shifted down to mine. “Would you like to help them?”

  “Really? Like go in there and ask the guy questions?”

  “I was thinking more of utilizing your gifts from here. Assist Captain Bennett with his recollection of events.”

  A sharp pang of remembered betrayal tightened my gut. I knew that being part of Thirteen’s team would include being used for my supernatural gifts. It was part of the reason I’d worked all these months to gain such perfect control. But there was still a little piece inside me that wanted him to see me as just another key member of the team—not a secret tool to be called on to make their jobs easier.

  It didn’t matter. I wanted to work with Thirteen and the guys on my old team. Now I was getting the chance.

  “OK,” I said, stepping closer to the glass. Thirteen flipped a switch on the wall, and Jon’s voice filled the room. I could already hear every word, but this way Thirteen could listen in as well.

  “…to a destination somewhere along Russia’s western border. This is fact, Captain. We have records, satellite feed, flight logs—you flew that plane.”

  Bennett held his head in his hands, his fingers curling into his messy gray hair. “I didn’t. I swear to you. I don’t know what you’re talking about!”