Steel for 5 (Mags & Nats Book 3)

by Stephanie Fazio

  “Agreed,” Graysen said as he texted on his own cell.

  “I’ll see if I can track down this magic ripper,” Smith said. His head disappeared behind the screen of his laptop, which he was balancing on one palm.

  “Yutika and I can go talk to some of the other Super Mags,” Michael offered. “See if they know anything that’ll help us find this mystery person.”

  “I guess that leaves us,” I told A.J. My thoughts were already racing ahead to how I intended to spend my first night off in months.

  Over the last four months, we’d all been consumed with helping Kaira and Graysen set up their new administration as Co-Directors of the Alliance. After the election, our entire posse had moved into the Director’s mansion. We’d had about two seconds to settle in before our collective skills were put to the test.

  Every time I thought about how I and six other twenty-somethings were running the city, I got heartburn. And then I got back to work, since there was never any shortage of that these days.

  It was a true marker of how busy we’d all been that A.J. hadn’t even started talking about Halloween costumes.

  Guilt nagged at me; the only reason I had a night off was because twenty-seven people were dead. Still, that fact didn’t take away from the tingling sense of anticipation building in my limbs.

  Finally, a voice sighed in the back of my mind. Finally, I could do something about the mystery that haunted my dreams and called to me like a siren. Finally, I might be able to get some answers.

  The perpetual weight that rested between my shoulder blades eased a fraction.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” A.J. narrowed his eyes at me. “You have your ass-kicking face on, and I have a date with a jacuzzi and a pumpkin latte.”

  I had an ass-kicking face? Sweet.

  “Not anymore, you don’t,” I informed him. “We’re going grave robbing.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The fall breeze washed over my bare arms, which would have been covered in goosebumps if my skin was just skin. The silver of my bare titanium arms shone pale in the darkness. With my magic, I didn’t feel the burn of muscles or exertion from all the digging I was doing. I could have dug all night without getting tired.

  For just a moment, the wind pulled away the rotten earth smell and replaced it with the scent of a campfire. Somewhere nearby, people were roasting marshmallows and stargazing. While I was digging up graves.

  “Is this your idea of a joke, Bri Hammond?”

  I looked up. A.J. was peering down at me from the edge of the six-foot hole I’d dug. He wore a hat with a miner’s lamp, which illuminated one of his patent faux-leather loafers, tapping away in irritation.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, annoyed that A.J.’s butter-yellow suit was pristine, while my outfit was covered in dirt.

  Sir Zachary let out a playful yip. His outfit—a yellow jacket that matched A.J.’s suit—was as filthy as mine. Our little dog wagged his tail as he nosed around the fresh-turned earth.

  “Bringing me to a graveyard, under a full moon, a week before Halloween…?” A.J.’s voice got high at the end. “I’m getting the heebie jeebies. If it wasn’t for my incurable loyalty and perpetual good cheer, I’d do my digging from the car.”

  As a Level 10 Telekinetic, A.J. was capable of doing just that. Lower level Telekinetics had to be right next to an object to make it move. A.J. could control inanimate objects that were miles away.

  I’d been watching his shovel work furiously beside me for the last hour, while A.J. reclined on his checkered picnic blanket and sipped his spiked pumpkin latte.

  “Well,” I drawled. “If you weren’t so worried about our public image, then I’d be glad to dig up these graves in the middle of the day.”

  A.J. squeaked. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to portray us as semi-law-abiding Bostonians?”

  Legal, but with a twist was our joking, private motto. Our public one, which had gotten Kaira and Graysen elected, was Get shit done.

  Even though Kaira and Graysen were now the most powerful people in Boston, defiling graves was still a crime.

  Imagine that.

  A.J. did have a point about the Halloween spooky stuff, although I’d never admit it to him. There wasn’t much that could take me down, but it was admittedly a tad creepy being out here in the dark. I was usually a total sucker for scary stuff—roller coasters, horror movies, and haunted houses were my jam. But there was something about digging up a grave in the wee hours that filled my mind with images of ghosts and vampires. And zombies…oh my.

  My shovel hit the hard-plastic exterior of the biohazard container I had known would be buried here. I leaned my shovel against the dirt wall and used my titanium fingers to pry the container out of its earthen cocoon. A.J. adjusted his miner’s lamp helmet to illuminate the box as I pried it open.

  “Anything?” A.J. asked from the top of the hole.

  “Nope.”

  Just as I’d expected, the container was empty.

  The container held a faint plastic-y smell. The inside was devoid of bones or whatever else would have been left behind if it had held a corpse like it was supposed to.

  I leaned back against the freshly-dug hole, not even caring that dirt and earthworms were probably taking up residence in my long hair.

  Before Kaira and Graysen became Directors, we’d been investigating Mag Subject 6, the Invisible and Mind Melder Super Mag who was murdering Alliance officials. He’d been the one to tell us that Mags were being kidnapped and enslaved to produce the Magical Reduction Potion.

  And my niece, Lilly, had been one of the enslaved Mags.

  The only person who knew where the slaves were kept had died before I could get the information out of him. Now, I was stuck in this purgatory where I didn’t know whether Lilly was dead or alive, and I didn’t have any way of finding out. All I could do was dig up the rest of the graves on the list of Mags who shared the same profile as Lilly in the hopes of finding a new lead.

  “Get the Agent S and come on out of there, baby girl,” A.J. said in a soft voice.

  I realized I was crying and hastily wiped my eyes with a semi-clean corner of my shirt.

  My tears, which had become titanium the moment they left my eyes, turned into solid, silvery balls. They struck the ground with soft thunks, looking like beads resting atop the soil.

  I furiously kicked the offensive tears underneath the dirt. Those gleaming silver tears were just a reminder of my failure…a reminder of another problem I wasn’t able to solve.

  Like I could ever forget.

  I’d destroyed three punching bags just this month out of a lack of more productive means of working off my frustration. If I kept it up, the Alliance would need to add a budget line called Bri blowing off steam.

  I grabbed my shovel and began to dig again. I estimated I had three more feet to go before I reached the crate of Agent S I expected to be buried here.

  Agent S was a strange, green substance that was toxic to everyone and everything…except me. It was also the main ingredient in the Magical Reduction Potion. Ex-Director Edwardian Remwald had planned to use the MRP to force all Mags in the city to go to war against the Nats.

  My shovel struck wood. I carefully extracted the crate of Agent S. Before I bent down to lift it, the crate floated into the air. It landed with a gentle thud at the top of my ten-foot hole.

  “Thanks,” I called up to A.J.

  I pasted on my all is good in the world smile and forced the tension out of my muscles. I didn’t like anyone to see evidence of my weakness, even my best friend. And A.J. had a sixth sense for knowing when someone was upset and trying to hide it. I had to be strong. I had to be…well, steel.

  Chuckling to myself at the tiny witticism, I scooped up Sir Zachary. The dog, who was snuffling around in the dirt and chewing I-didn’t-want-to-know-what, gave me a dirty kiss on the cheek. Cradling him in my arms, I clambered back up the steep wall of the hole.

  A normal person would
have slid right back down to the bottom. In my titanium form, I scaled the crumbly surface as easily as a monkey climbing a tree.

  Unlike less powerful Steels, who were made of other metals, my titanium skin was lighter and more flexible. More importantly, there was pretty much nothing that could hurt me when I was in this state. Fire and ice didn’t bother me. A Super Mag having a tantrum had struck me with lightning a few weeks back, and I hadn’t even felt it. Acids and poisons also had no effect.

  It was the reason why I was the only one of the Seven who ever got within touching distance of Agent S. I had learned the hard way that Agent S and cashmere sweaters didn’t mix.

  I was pretty sure Smith would never recover from the scandal of seeing what was likely his first non-digital set of boobs.

  When I got to the top of the hole, I found four other crates waiting beside the one I had unearthed.

  A.J. directed his headlamp on the crates while I pried off the lids.

  Each crate was identical to the ones we’d unearthed from other graves. They all contained rows and rows of glass vials filled with Agent S.

  I’d seen the effects of the MRP firsthand when Cora, Kaira’s sweet youngest cousin, was injected with a syringe full of the potion. I could still see Cora, sitting on a park bench and clutching her pink backpack as she sobbed. Before the Magical Reduction Potion, Cora had been an Inanimate Illusionist. Now, she would never use magic again.

  I lifted one of the vials. The green liquid stuck to the side of the vial that was touching my hand. Even though gravity should have pulled the Agent S down, it stubbornly stayed as close to my body as it could get. It was like we were opposites sides of a magnet.

  For some reason we hadn’t figured out, Agent S was attracted to my titanium skin. It burned through everything else.

  “You better stand back,” I told A.J., who was already putting distance between himself and the crates. He whistled to Sir Zachary, who padded over to him.

  Once they were far enough away, I put the vial back in the crate. Then, I lifted the entire thing and threw it into the grave. I used enough force to deepen the hole several feet. The ground beneath us shuddered slightly from the impact.

  I heard the crack of wood and tinkle of glass as the vials shattered. The green liquid that oozed out sparkled in the moonlight. It hissed and sent up a burst of green-tinged steam as it burned deeper into the ground.

  Since we’d told the rest of Boston about the MRP, the safest way to ensure its key ingredient didn’t wind up in the wrong hands was to destroy it.

  Whoever was going after the Super Mags’ magic somehow had access to the Magical Reduction Potion. One criminal playing God in our city was one too many.

  I threw the next crate down, and then the next, and the next.

  Past experience had taught me that if I was too close to the Agent S when it was released from its vial, it would cling to my titanium skin and refuse to let go. That was how I’d discovered I was as ticklish in my titanium form as I was in regular skin…and inadvertently revealed my greatest weakness to all of my friends.

  “What do you think, hon?” A.J. asked, as he refilled the grave without so much as touching a shovel. The particles of dirt just zoomed back into the hole at lightning speed. “On to the next cemetery?”

  I nodded, bowing under the crushing weight that had settled on my shoulders. I knew what we’d find at the next cemetery…the same we’d found in the twenty graves we’d already dug up.

  “We’re going to solve this mystery,” A.J. promised me as he tucked an arm around my waist. “We’re going to find those slaves and figure out exactly what happened to Lilly.”

  Sir Zachary wagged his tail and nuzzled against my leg.

  I only wished I shared their optimism.

  ✽✽✽

  A.J. stifled a yawn as we got out of the van. I was instantly awash with guilt. I was dragging A.J. all over Boston to dig up graves, when he should be catching up on some much-needed sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” I began, but A.J. waved away my apology.

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Fresh air is good for the complexion.”

  We followed the path until we reached the first grave on the printout Smith had given me.

  A prickling sense of unease climbed up my spine as I looked at the grave.

  I glanced at Sir Zachary to see if anything seemed off to him. He was avidly watching an earthworm as it wriggled back into the dirt.

  I didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean we were alone. The cemetery was bathed in shadows that flickered and took on a life of their own. I turned my face into the wind. That was when I caught a smell I’d gotten so used to it hadn’t registered at first.

  Freshly-dug earth.

  It hadn’t rained recently, and there was no reason for the smell to be so strong, unless—

  A.J. let out a muted protest when I pulled off his miner’s helmet and pointed the lamp onto the grave.

  The light left no room for debate. Someone had already been here.

  A.J. toed a small pile of dirt the gravedigger hadn’t bothered to push back into place. “What are the odds?”

  “Of someone randomly digging up a grave that’s been here for three years?” I chuckled darkly. “Nil.”

  I shone A.J.’s light all around the area. On my second sweep of the light, I caught a glimpse of something peeking out of the dirt. Hurrying forward, I grasped the tiny paper before the wind caught it.

  It was a gum wrapper. Fire-hot cinnamon flavor, according to the label.

  I pocketed the wrapper, because I didn’t feel like getting one of A.J.’s lectures about littering. Finding no other clues about who might have been here and why, I grabbed my shovel and got to work.

  It went quickly, thanks to the dirt being loose from whoever had already been here and A.J.’s shovel working steadily beside me. Even Sir Zachary helped, although his little paws didn’t accomplish much.

  A few seconds later, A.J.’s shovel hit the biohazard container. It was higher up in the hole than it should have been—maybe only a couple of feet. A quick examination of the container showed that it hadn’t been disturbed.

  A.J.’s announcement of “Nothing here except environmentally unfriendly plastic,” came just as my shovel hit the edge of the Agent S crate. Again, it wasn’t buried as deeply as the ones in the other graves had been.

  As soon as I lifted the crate, my stomach plummeted. It was light.

  Too light.

  I knew even before I wrenched off the lid what I’d find inside.

  The crate was empty.

  CHAPTER 4

  It took us an hour to investigate all eight remaining graves on our list. Every single one of them had already been dug up. And their crates of Agent S were empty.

  There were no other clues about who had dug up the graves, but it was obvious the Agent S-robber had known what they were doing. None of the other graves in the cemetery had been disturbed. That meant our thief had known exactly which graves to target.

  My mind was a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

  By the time A.J., Sir Zachary, and I got home, it was close to midnight. Despite the late hour, the mansion was bustling with activity.

  When we’d moved in, I had been less than thrilled about taking up residence in Edwardian Remwald’s old home. I’d proceeded to change my tune when I learned I was getting my own bathroom…with heated floors and fog-proof mirrors.

  Sir Zachary made a beeline for the kitchen, where a warm, yeasty smell was wafting. Yutika had made a dog bed for Sir Zachary next to the refrigerator, since he spent so much time in the kitchen with Ma.

  “Bri Hammond!” The booming voice was accompanied by a hard thump on my back.

  Adam, Graysen’s crew teammate, shook out his hand as he gave me a sheepish look. “Ow. I always forget how hard your skin is.”

  “So sorry.” I blew on my fists, transforming my body back to regular skin before I slapped him on the back in return.

 
I could transform without blowing on my fists, but it took more concentration. In nature, oxygen made titanium brittle. When combined with magic, the oxygen in my breath made it easier to activate and deactivate the hardness of my titanium skin. Plus, it looked cool.

  I felt my magic retreat back inside me. It hid just beneath the surface, waiting patiently until I called on it again.

  Now that I was back in my regular skin, I couldn’t keep from shivering. The house was heated, but not well enough for my choice of tank top and cut-off jeans.

  “How do you manage to be so pretty even when you’re covered in dirt?” Adam asked, batting his eyes at me. He sat back down at the long kitchen table with the rest of his crew team and Kaira’s two cousins.

  “Flirt.” I grinned at him.

  My appearance could best be described as cute. My blonde hair and hazel eyes were nice enough, but I had none of Kaira’s head-turning effect. If she were to walk into the room right now, all of the crew guys would be picking their jaws off the floor.

  My round face and five-foot-two-in-heels height made me look younger than my twenty years. It was why I chose outfits that accentuated my decidedly-adult physique. I also made sure my hair and makeup were always pristine—well, when I wasn’t digging up graves.

  “Bri isn’t into you,” Desiree, the older of Kaira’s two cousins, informed Adam bluntly.

  “That’s okay,” Adam told her. “I’m just killing time until you get old enough to date.”

  Desiree rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was happy with the compliment. If she’d actually been offended, we would have been deluged by one of her rain storms.

  Yutika had created all of the furniture in the house with Desiree in mind. There was a great deal of vinyl and waterproof lacquer.

  It had been a strange few months living with Desiree. Not long ago, she had joined the UnAllied and almost gotten us killed. She was also the reason why Cora was now magic-less.

  The rest of the Hansley clan was still working to repair what Desiree had broken. I wasn’t Desiree’s biggest fan, but I had to admit she seemed to be really trying to make amends. She was still moody and difficult, but she wasn’t as angry as she’d been. Strangely enough, she’d been spending a lot of time with the Super Mags. Those interactions seemed to be doing more for her maturity than anything else.