He blinked and found Marley smiling sadly at him. “Don’t tell me what you saw.”
He nodded and turned away to hide the expression he knew would only show sadness and pity. He took a deep breath and as they entered the first-floor hallway lined with apartment doors, tried not to think of all the ways this could fail.
Chapter Eighteen
Uncle Martin came for a visit yesterday. He brought friends, which always upsets Mama. She made them sleep in the barn, but they still look at me at mealtimes. I know what they want. It’s not what other girls are afraid of from boys. But those men won’t get it. My power is mine, and I won’t give it to anyone.
—Meandress Chronicles, compilation of family diaries
Riley and Quinn had powered down the phone and flashlight, so Riley had no idea how long they sat in the dark, planning in whispers in case the room was being monitored. They could hear noise from outside, occasional horns and sirens, so it wasn’t soundproof.
“Can you sense anyone nearby?” Quinn asked. Her voice was weaker than it had been when Riley first got here.
“No, but I still haven’t determined my range.” So they might be alone in the apartment, or there might be a dozen hired goons waiting somewhere close. “How are you doing?” she asked Quinn.
“Not good.” A moan escaped when she shifted position.
“You won’t be able to fight.”
Quinn sighed. “No. The power that’s left, as little as it is relative to the mass I originally held, is draining me. Fighting would be an epic fail.”
Riley got to her knees and ran her hands along the bed frame. “I need metal. I want to be prepared when they come in here.” The room was empty except for the bed, so she found what pieces she could detach from the frame and worked them loose, stuffing curled-up springs, screws, and nuts into her pockets. Digging under the mattress, she jerked on the support posts. One of them rattled.
“Yes! Can you shift down the bed a little so I can work this free?”
Quinn complied, and Riley shoved the mattress up to work at the bolts attaching the post with L-braces. “Ow, fuck,” she muttered. The edge of the bolt hole was jagged, and a couple of nails caught and ripped at the quick, but she kept going until she held a three-foot-long metal club. She hefted it, drawing a little energy, slowly increasing it until the metal warmed under her hand. By shifting her grip to a cooler spot, she could avoid the burns she’d suffered with the chains.
“I’m going to try breaking down the door,” she told Quinn, walking over. “The hinges and deadbolt have got to be metal, so maybe I can—” She touched the doorknob and yelped, yanking her hand away as a shock ran up her arm. “Crap. They’ve got it wired somehow.” She reached again, trying to imagine a shield of energy over her hand. It worked, to an extent. When she neared the doorknob there was resistance—which meant she couldn’t get close enough to touch it.
“Please be careful,” Quinn said from the bed. “Don’t—”
Riley let out a string of curses as her groping fingers found the hinges, and the jolt went through her entire body this time. Furious, she kicked at the door, near the lock, then near the center, thinking she could kick a hole through it at least. But the thing was solid. Probably reinforced. She barely cracked the center, even after kicking several times, and it didn’t even rattle in the jamb.
She limped back to Quinn and dropped onto the mattress. “I need to try to unlock it telekinetically, but I don’t know how.”
“Maybe I can talk you through it. You opened the car door that way, right?”
“Yeah.” But Riley was skeptical. “I know how to pull a handle. It wasn’t easy though, because my abilities are more punch than pull. This is finesse, and I have no idea what the inside of a lock looks like.”
“Rest a minute, and then we’ll try.”
But as she’d expected, Riley was unable to make it work. She thought about melting the metal but needed contact for that, and she still couldn’t push through the pain of the electricity to touch anything near the door, even the latch plate that curled slightly around the jamb.
She paced the dark, empty room, frustrated. “Boosting the phone signal was finesse. Why can’t I do something else that’s finesse-y?”
“It’s different,” Quinn placated. “The phone signal is energy. You just fed it with the energy you pulled through the metal. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
That didn’t make Riley feel better. Despite the new things she’d tried since meeting Sam and John’s training, it still seemed as haphazard as when she first realized she was a freak.
Suck it up, Riley. Whatever you can do, you do. You’re the only one here who can.
“Okay, new strategy. We’ll wait for whoever comes for us first. If it’s Sam and Nick, yay. If it’s not, I have this.” She brandished the metal tubing she’d detached from the bed. “We’ll fight our way out.”
Quinn didn’t comment on her optimistic we.
They sat in silence, Riley working to build her strength and the amount of energy she held without doing damage. Quinn’s breathing, beside her, was slow and even, and Riley knew she was gathering her own strength.
Riley waited, alert. Eyes closed, listening. Voices. People—a presence she felt an instant before the latch clicked. She had a brief throb of disappointment that the signature wasn’t Sam’s before she jumped to her feet and braced against the wall next to the door, strong and ready, just before it opened. Her breathing was steady, her heart rate normal. Sweat didn’t slick her palms or bead on her forehead. She’d do whatever she needed to protect them both.
She whacked the first guy through the door on top of the head. Not hard enough to kill him, but enough to drive him to his knees.
“Wha the fuh?” He swayed and lifted his hand. Riley kicked him between the shoulder blades and followed him to the carpet.
Everything seemed to happen at a normal speed, though Riley knew it was moving faster. The guy groaned and tried to get up. “Stay down,” she ordered, and pushed him flat with her foot.
Now she faced the doorway and the next guy coming in. He rushed Riley, growling. She swung the pipe like a baseball bat and connected with the side of his head. He fell into the door, knocking it against the wall, and tumbled to the floor.
“Ground rule double,” Riley muttered, and Quinn laughed behind her.
The hall outside was empty, but Riley stood at the ready, waiting, all her senses tuned to high. She got a very light prickle from the two goons on the floor, but still sensed nothing beyond this room.
“Go,” Quinn croaked. “Get out, and get help.”
“No way.” Riley flipped over the first guy, who seemed slightly more coherent than his partner, and yanked him up by his Polo shirt. “What do you want with us? Who’s in charge?”
His mouth stretched in a wobbly grimace that she assumed was supposed to be a grin. “Not telling.”
“Yes, you are.” She raised the metal tube again, gratified to see fear flicker through his eyes, but the feeling was short-lived. She didn’t want to be that person. The bully. Someone who got off on intimidating other people or even hurting them. Was it her power or the circumstances that were making her this way?
Her strength ebbed, and their jailer sagged in her grip. Pain seared through the muscles in the underside of her forearm. Okay, she wanted to be that person, at least until they got out of here. She’d go to counseling later.
She pulled more energy and got right in the guy’s face. “Tell me.”
He tried to shrug and only succeeded in flopping his arms. His speech was clearer, though. “Tournado told us to leech you two. Just enough to get us started. Then we’d have the power to get more.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She dropped him in disgust but didn’t bother to correct his understanding of how leeching worked. “How many of you are here?”
“Too many for you,” he mumbled, and she took that to mean none.
“Come on.” She hustled over to Q
uinn and tried to help her off the bed.
“No, you need to scout the place. I’ll slow you down, and if he’s not lying about having backup, we’re cooked.”
Riley hated that Quinn was right. Leaving her here felt completely wrong, but dragging her blind wasn’t going to get them far. “Okay, but…” She hesitated, then handed Quinn the pipe.
“You need that.” Quinn tried to give it back.
“No, I’m good. I have other stuff. You need something to defend yourself with. It’s hard, and at the very least, maybe you can clang it against the bed frame to call me back if you need help.”
“All right. Thanks.” Quinn wrapped her hand around the pipe and balanced it in the crook of her elbow. Riley was afraid she wouldn’t have the strength to swing it, but…
“Hey, wait a second.” Metal gave her strength. Could she channel that? Not just the raw energy as a concussive burst, but the strength itself? Feed Quinn, kind of like feeding the cell signal. She wrapped her hands around Quinn’s, making sure to contact the metal, and closed her eyes to concentrate on infusing Quinn with the energy Riley had already internalized. It was all instinct, maybe applied with a little bit of logic, but unaffected by doubt. Slowly, her body seemed to deflate as Quinn’s skin warmed.
Quinn drew in an audible breath. “Riley,” she breathed. “Wow.”
Riley opened her eyes and smiled. Quinn blinked at her in the light from the hall. “It worked?”
“Yes. Thank you. But you—”
“I’m good.” She got off the bed and dug into her pockets, coming out with fistfuls of small metal parts. The strength she’d lost returned. She pushed it all into her arms and fists and grinned. “Now I just need someone to punch.”
“Be careful. Don’t burn yourself.”
“I won’t.” She couldn’t draw constantly on the energy, especially since she couldn’t let go of the metal and there was no cool spot to shift to. She’d have to perfect quick draws and bursts on the fly until she found something better.
She stopped wasting time and spun away, dashing to the door and peering up and down the hall. It was a standard apartment hallway, though longer than she’d anticipated. There were three other typical flat-panel doors, neutral, high-grade carpet, and off-white painted walls. No art. The ceiling light fixture was ornate, though. A smoke detector sat next to it. Maybe she could set that off, but if it wasn’t wired to the fire department, it would call attention to them without getting help.
She stepped over the second guy’s legs into the hall. Neither punk tried to stop her. They hadn’t provided much of a challenge. Maybe sniveling, greedy weasels didn’t have as much of their ancestors’ influence, and that was why they registered so low to her Numina senses. She didn’t want to refer to them as gods. Before it was a little scary to consider. Now it seemed to be giving them too much credit.
The hall dead-ended to her left, but she went that way first to hurriedly check the other rooms. Having both hands full wasn’t going to work, so she shoved the nuts and springs in her left hand into her pocket again and tried the door handles. All were locked except the one opening into a basic, all-tan bathroom. The gleaming fixtures and new-paint smell made her think this apartment hadn’t been occupied in a while. The vanity was bare, the glass door to the step-in shower very clean.
Riley backed up and listened at the locked doors, trying to feel the interiors of the rooms. She heard no sounds and felt no prickles. She couldn’t assume the rooms were empty, though. She tapped the first doorknob. When it didn’t shock her, she twisted it hard enough to break the lock and pushed open the door. The light from the hall showed it to be as empty as everything else. Ditto the other room.
The lack of…anything gave her a chill. Were they planning to abduct other goddesses and trap them here? These doors had been easy to break into, but maybe the reinforced door of the other room was stage one and they hadn’t gotten this far yet.
The two guys staggered into the hallway from the room Quinn was in, blocking Riley’s access to the open end. One of them pointed at Riley. “Get her!”
She couldn’t get enough energy from the metal she held to knock them back from here, so she charged down the hall, braced to plow through them. She pushed the energy out in front of her, hoping to knock them out of her way.
Except they’d gotten smart, or stopped underestimating her, or decided they weren’t scared of her after all. Maybe getting hit in the head had pissed them off, or fear of what Anson would do to them if she got away galvanized them. Also, she apparently sucked at creating a shield. They didn’t budge when the energy she thought she pushed ahead of her hit them. Then, despite her speed and strength, they stood firm and grabbed her, working together to hold on when she immediately kicked and flailed.
“No! Let me go!” She wrenched one arm free, but the metal in her fist wasn’t enough. She couldn’t draw enough power to get away, not with four arms and hands alternately wrapping around her and grabbing her wrists and legs.
“Hold her, goddammit!” one of them growled.
The other cursed and dodged her skull when she tried a reverse head-butt. Her hand stung, the metal heating. She had to change strategies.
She went limp so abruptly it took them by surprise, and her body slid through their hands. Once on the floor, she scrambled away, digging into her pocket for the other metal pieces. This time, she made sure the sharp ends of the springs poked between her fingers, and when they chased after her down the hall toward the main area of the apartment, she spun and scratched one in the face.
“Shit!” He skidded to a halt, his hands pressed to the bloody marks. “Get her!”
The other guy got a determined look on his face and charged. Riley reached the kitchen and dodged around the center island, trying to keep an eye on him and find alternate metal at the same time. The appliances were stainless steel, but it would be too easy to drag her away from them. Unless…
No, crazy idea. Too heavy, too slow if it didn’t work. She stared around, her vision blurring as she tried to take in her surroundings all at once. She wasn’t calm and steady anymore. Her lungs hurt from panting, and her heart pounded, pulse throbbing in her neck and arms. Her palms were burned and scratched. But she had to neutralize these two long enough to get Quinn out. Maybe then they could hide somewhere until Nick and Sam got here.
The kitchen shared an open floor plan with the dining room, separated from the living room by a half wall on the other side. More neutral colors. Brown, boring furniture matched the brown marble countertops, and the same plush carpeting flowed all the way to the front door, save where speckled tan ceramic tile lined the kitchen floor. The rooms were all large, and besides the doors leading to closets and a powder room, that was it. The entire apartment. Like in the bathroom, it smelled of new paint and cleaning products, and Riley assumed it was staged for sale. Or maybe a new purchase, since there was absolutely nothing on the countertops. No cute canisters, no fancy toaster or coffeepot. Nothing that would help her.
No time to search drawers. Both guys approached her again, one from either side of the island. The one she’d scratched still held his cheek, blood seeping through his fingers, and looked very pissed. The other was cautious, moving more slowly than his partner.
“You guys know how to drain me?” she taunted. “You wanna become leeches like your pal Anson? You have to start with a willing goddess, morons. You can’t just steal it the way you are. If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it.”
“Don’t listen to her,” the unscratched guy told his friend. “Anson said we’ll have all the power we want. He knows how to do it.”
“Why would you believe him?” They’d stopped moving, and she caught her breath. If she could distract them long enough, maybe she could find a way to knock them out completely this time. There was no one else here, so she had time…
She’d barely thought the words before the jinx went into effect. The front door opened, and four more dudes with rich-kid cloth
es and lightened, carefully tousled, or just-a-bit-too-long hair came in. They stared at the group in front of them, and unfortunately for Riley, easily grasped what was going on. There was only one thing left to do.
She opened her hands and let the metal pieces clatter to the floor.
…
“This is taking too long.” Sam stopped halfway down the first second-floor corridor and stuck his hands on his hips. Way too many apartments stretched ahead of them. At every door he stopped, concentrated, registered Marley as a kind of marker, and tried to sense anyone in the apartment. Sometimes they heard TVs, people talking or yelling or laughing, music, or odd noises he couldn’t identify. Regular sounds of regular people living regular lives. He never got anything like the seventh sense that identified Marley as non-regular, and every stop took a couple of minutes. At this rate, it could be hours before they found Riley and Quinn.
“We should go upstairs. Start at the top.”
“We could. But you said you thought it was equally likely they’d use a smaller apartment to throw you off, in case you knew they were rich. Or used to be.”
Sam moved to the next door and closed his eyes, leaning close. Silence. Darkness. Nothing. “I don’t know. This just seems fruitless. But if we go upstairs and no one is up there, it’ll be just as much a waste of time.” He tried the next door. More TV murmuring, nothing else. “I don’t even know if I’m doing this right.” He fisted his hand and brought it up like he’d hit the wall, but landed it in a light tap, instead.
“Are you okay?” Marley stepped closer and looked up at him with concern. “You don’t seem right.”
“I’m fine.” He shoved away from the wall and kept going. The mess of hunger and illness and nerves was nothing compared to what might be happening to his…to Riley and Quinn. A ticking clock at the back of his head told him they might already be too late. “Let’s go upstairs. There’s nothing down here.”
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