Steel for 5 (Mags & Nats Book 3)

by Stephanie Fazio

  While it was mildly uncomfortable for all of us except Graysen, who seemed to have endless patience for interviews and meet-and-greets, it was downright torture for Smith and Michael.

  I noticed a cameraman loitering on the edge of the crowd who wasn’t clicking away with his camera. He also kept looking in Yutika’s direction. I was about to go full titanium bodyguard when Kaira caught my eye and winked. She mouthed Michael. I instantly relaxed.

  I gave her a subtle thumbs-up and smiled for the cameras that were flashing spastically all around us. I answered a few questions about the Pyro’s recent stunt with the retirement home, giving the polite-yet-vague answers I’d discussed with Kaira and Graysen.

  I stepped back, keeping a hawk’s eye on the Directors as they were grilled by the reporters.

  “Ms. Hansley, how does it feel to be the youngest Director ever?” a breathless reporter asked.

  Kaira lifted a shoulder. “You’ll have to ask my husband.” She turned to smile at Graysen.

  “You’re younger?” Yutika asked Graysen, sounding intrigued.

  “I’m the one conducting this interview, if you don’t mind,” the reporter said in a haughty voice.

  “By almost a year,” Graysen told Yutika.

  “Ohmygosh, Kaira.” Yutika giggled. “You’re a cradle robber.”

  I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. My phone chimed, and when I glanced down at the screen, my blood ran cold. It was a text from Smith.

  911.

  “Seven,” I said in a calm voice, even though my thoughts were racing a million miles ahead. “Get back into the house. There’s an important call for Kaira and Graysen.”

  It was our secret code for get the hell inside NOW without stirring up the hornet’s nest of reporters.

  Michael turned his unblinking gaze on the group of reporters, who were circling Kaira and Graysen like vultures.

  “Leave,” he said in a soft voice. “You got everything you needed for your interview, and you don’t remember anything going wrong.”

  Nodding in placid acquiescence, the reporters packed up their equipment and headed back to their vehicles.

  I started power-walking across the lawn as another text came through.

  Intruder climbing the East Gate. Armed with a handgun and an axe.

  Kicking off my heels, I began to run.

  I blew on my fists. Strength coursed through my hands and ran down my forearms.

  I’d heard others describe their magic as a rising heat within them. For me, it was the opposite. Cool power washed over my skin as flimsy flesh and bones were replaced by smooth metal. When I was titanium, I didn’t have to second-guess myself. Every other substance crumpled and shattered when it came up against me. I felt invincible.

  I tasted metal on my tongue. Its sharp tang filled my nostrils. Calm spread through me as I felt the steady, even thrum of my magic.

  I was silent as I raced across the property. Even though I was sprinting, my heartbeat was slow and even. My muscles were relaxed. I was solid metal, but I felt as loose and flexible as a rubber band.

  I was never more alive than when I was titanium.

  Ping. Ping, ping, ping.

  A bullet, and then three more, struck my chest.

  The shooter had good aim. The bullets struck the spot right over my heart…and bounced off. I smiled.

  The woman—a Combat Mag, if the muscles bulging from her bare arms were any indication—leapt off the top of the fence. She held out her axe as she threw her considerable weight at me.

  I let her come.

  There was a sharp clang as the axe blade struck my skin and shattered. Tiny slivers of the blade repelled backward, away from my unmarked skin.

  The Combat Mag hissed in a breath as one of the shards sliced her forearm. Blood bloomed across her pale skin.

  Steel…1. Combat Mag…0.

  With a feral screech, the Combat Mag pulled back and punched me in the face. She howled as the bones in her fist cracked.

  I was bored. This woman was like a hammer, while I was a tank.

  “Are you finished?” I asked.

  “You’re protecting abominations,” the Combat Mag panted. “They’ll pollute this city with their devil spawn.”

  She pulled a knife out of her boot and stabbed me. The blade broke off against my jugular.

  “I don’t like when people trespass onto my property,” I said, wrenching the woman’s arms behind her back. “And I really don’t like bullies.”

  The Combat Mag’s eyes watered. I gentled my hold…just a little.

  When I was younger, I’d needed to learn how to hold myself back so I didn’t accidentally kill anyone. I was never more aware of how dangerous my magic could be until Subject 6 had taken over my mind and made me almost murder my friends.

  That memory still haunted me, and made me gentler with this trespasser than I might have been otherwise.

  “Okay?” Michael asked, breathing a little hard after his sprint from the house.

  “Oh, yeah.” I patted the Combat Mag’s shoulder, making her wince and curse. “She’s all yours.”

  Sadly, we had this routine down pat. I texted my person in the Mag unit of the Boston Police Department, while Michael hunched down to stare into the Combat Mag’s eyes.

  “You will never come back here,” Michael said in a soft and unyielding voice.

  “I hate them,” the woman told Michael, giving him puppy dog eyes.

  Michael pointed to the security booth nearest to us. To the Combat Mag, he said, “Go stand over there. Don’t move until the police pick you up.”

  Like me, I knew Michael was holding himself back. He could turn this woman into Kaira and Graysen’s biggest fan with just a few words.

  Using our magic to take advantage of those who were weaker went against a core tenant of Kaira and Graysen’s administration. So, we stuck by our faithful motto of Legal, but with a twist.

  With a longing look in Michael’s direction, the Combat Mag started her walk of shame to the security booth.

  I sent a text out to the Seven as we walked, letting them know the coast was clear. Smith met Michael and me as we headed toward the house.

  “It’s time to rethink this Red Sox game,” Smith said irritably. He glared at me, like the whole thing was my fault. “There’s no way we’ll be able to monitor the entire baseball field. You need to convince Kaira and Graysen to just say what they need to say from the house.”

  “Kaira and Graysen do have to go out in public occasionally,” I told our Techie, bending to give Sir Zachary a pat when he delivered one of my shoes, now covered in slobber, to me.

  “I could replace them with holograms that’ll be so convincing no one will know the difference,” Smith suggested.

  “Holograms can’t throw out the ceremonial first pitch,” I pointed out.

  “Well, maybe Yutika could make robots that look like Kaira and Graysen. And then—”

  I gave Michael a help me look.

  “You know Kaira,” Michael told Smith, interrupting his monologue. “She’s going to go out with or without our permission. At least this way, she tells us her plans so we can prepare.”

  “Fine.” Smith pointed a finger at both of us. “But when this baseball game turns into a stampede and all of you get trampled, don’t come complaining to me.”

  Noted.

  I blew on my fists to pull the magic back from my skin. My blood was pumping, but in a good way. I loved my job. It made me feel competent and capable…the exact opposite of how I felt whenever I thought about my failure to find out what had really happened to Lilly and the others.

  ✽✽✽

  My security team was already waiting for me inside the gate Yutika had created when we moved in. I’d hand-picked these men and women from an array of the best private contractors in the world, whom Smith had tracked down and convinced to come to Boston. They were all wearing Red Sox gear, but the casual clothes wouldn’t fool anyone. These were professionals
. I got curt nods before my team went back to sweeping our vehicles and pouring over the printouts of Fenway Park.

  “Anyone have any questions?” I asked, as Yutika came onto the driveway with an armful of headsets and mikes.

  Given how drastically our job descriptions had changed over the last five months, surprisingly little about our operations had changed.

  “Well, don’t I feel popular?” Graysen grinned at the congregation of security personnel as he and Kaira came out of the house.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Kaira told him as we all piled into the fleet of vehicles Yutika had made for us.

  Kaira was stunning in a Red Sox-themed dress ensemble. She’d been growing her hair out, and her twists reached halfway down her back.

  On the drive to Fenway Park, we all joked and chatted the way we always did. We put in our earpieces and clipped mikes onto our lapels so we’d all be able to stay in contact even when we were separated.

  It was only when we neared the baseball field that my anxiety began to spike.

  This was the largest and least-protected venue we’d attended since Kaira and Graysen’s election. The Combat Mag’s attack on our house had made me more squirrely than usual, or maybe Smith’s paranoia was rubbing off on me. Either way, I was overcome by a rush of foreboding. There were too many people…too many ways for all of this to go wrong.

  I looked at the people outside the tinted windows. All of their smiles seemed sinister. Their hands reached into pockets that might be hiding any number of weapons.

  Smith’s holograph idea was sounding better and better.

  I opened my mouth to make that very argument a second too late. Graysen had opened the door and stepped onto the street. He was waving and saying something to the crowd that was pressed up against laughably flimsy police barriers. Seconds later, Kaira was at his side, leaning across the barrier to sign a kid’s baseball cap.

  “Nice knowing you,” Smith said morosely.

  Swallowing my growing sense of unease, I flipped on my mike and got out of the car.

  CHAPTER 6

  Istood at the edge of the field, my heels sinking into the soft grass as I scanned the area for threats.

  “Kaira and I are so grateful to be Bostonians,” Graysen said into the microphone. He raised his and Kaira’s clasped hands. “None of what we’ve accomplished would have been possible without all of you.”

  “And we’re just getting started,” Kaira added.

  Thunderous applause filled the stadium.

  “You guys are killing it,” Yutika said into our earpieces.

  “Turn a little to your left,” A.J. ordered. “And give the cameras a G-rated smooch.”

  “I assume that was to Kaira and Graysen,” I said, grinning at the blushing security guard standing next to me.

  “I thought it was for me,” Yutika said. “Michael, get over here.”

  “Like you’d ever keep it G-rated,” Smith said.

  “Can we focus?” Michael asked in a gruff voice.

  I split my attention between Graysen and Kaira, the chatter in my earpiece, and the surrounding crowd. The stadium could hold 37,755 people, and I was sure there wasn’t an empty seat in the place.

  “Minor issue in the bleachers,” Michael said in my ear. “It’s been taken care of.”

  “Drug deal going down behind the Green Monster,” a member of my security team said. “Want me to deal with it?”

  “Not unless it becomes a threat to Kaira and Graysen,” I replied to the woman, who had been a consultant to the Mag cops’ narcos unit before we’d snagged her.

  “Roger that,” she replied.

  Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Kaira and Graysen had reminded the entire city of why they were the best pair to lead us into a new, better future. They were getting laughter and cheers as they good-naturedly teased each other. They even managed to sneak in a few previews of the new laws they’d been working on.

  In spite of all the Alliance red tape Kaira constantly complained about, she and Graysen had brought about more changes in the last few months than any of the previous Directors had during their entire tenure.

  The two of them walked to the pitcher’s mound hand-in-hand. Graysen stole a kiss just before the ball left their joined hands. The crowd erupted in cheers.

  The kiss cam overhead was featuring Nat-Mag couples who, thanks to Kaira and Graysen, no longer needed to hide their relationships.

  Kaira and Graysen came to join me at the edge of the field as the game got underway. My security team moved in, not blocking them from view, but there as a silent warning.

  If you want to get to the Directors, you’ll have to go through us.

  There was a deafening roar as the first home run was scored. The screens told me it had been by one of the Mag players on our team.

  Nice.

  Using the binoculars Yutika had made for me, I scanned back and forth across the bleachers. All at once, my gaze caught on movement in the crowd that didn’t match the cheering and peanut-throwing madness of everyone else.

  “Michael, right field box,” I said into my mike. “Actually, change that. They’re coming onto the field.”

  I watched the group shove their way past police and other park employees. Even without binoculars, it would have been impossible to miss the voluminous red hair and lime-green mumu dress.

  Valencia Stark.

  “Cheat-ah!” Valencia hollered in her obnoxious Boston accent. She pointed at the Mag player’s name flashing on the scoreboard. “Cheat-ah!”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Kaira said, rolling her eyes.

  Graysen moved protectively in front of her as his friendly gaze turned predatory.

  “Stay here,” I ordered both of them.

  I blew on my fists and strode out to meet Valencia. Unsurprisingly, Kaira and Graysen were right there with me.

  All Seven of us had a penchant for running headlong into danger, and becoming Directors hadn’t made Kaira and Graysen any more concerned with their own safety. Their heroics gave the twitchier members of my security team—Smith and me included—constant ulcers.

  The only reason I wasn’t hauling my friends’ asses back to the van was because Valencia was no longer a true threat.

  Right before Kaira and Graysen’s wedding, we’d tricked the Enforcers and UnAllied into facing off against each other. One of the Enforcers had injected Valencia with the MRP. In one fell swoop, Valencia had lost her magic and leadership over the UnAllied…a group that hated Nats. The UnAllied had disbanded after Kaira became the first Mag Director.

  For several, blessedly-peaceful weeks, Valencia had disappeared from the spotlight. And then she’d reemerged…no longer anti-Nat. Now, she was anti-Mag.

  She had a few followers, but mostly, the only ones who paid attention to her were comedians and sub-par talk show hosts.

  Valencia and her small group were chanting something. As we got closer, their words crystalized.

  “Keep Boston Natural. Keep Boston Natural. Keep Boston Natural!”

  Graysen made a sound of annoyance.

  “Valencia Stark,” Graysen called in a clear voice. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than to interrupt a baseball game?”

  I tensed as she reached into her pocket. But instead of drawing out a weapon, she produced a megaphone.

  “Baseball is for humans,” Valencia shouted into her megaphone. “And Mags aren’t human!”

  Booing and jeers filled the stadium. The few isolated pockets of applause were quickly silenced.

  If the crowd started throwing beer down at Valencia and my outfit got ruined, this lady was going to have hell to pay.

  “Director Gald-ah,” Valencia said into the megaphone, a little out of breath from all her chanting. “I’m here on behalf of the Nat Preservation Association.”

  Yutika turned her guffaw into a barely-concealed cough. I didn’t look at her, because if I did, we’d both lose it.

  I glanced at Kai
ra and Graysen to see if they wanted me to toss Valencia off the field…literally. Kaira gave me a subtle shake of her head. So, I stayed where I was and exchanged glares with the Nats flanking Valencia.

  “None of them is a significant threat,” Smith said in my ear. “All of these degenerates have been in and out of prison for petty crimes.”

  I kept my eyes glued on Valencia. Just because Kaira and Graysen were all about freedom of expression, it wouldn’t stop me from tackling her if she tried anything more than talking.

  “The Nat Preservation Association,” Graysen said in an amused voice. “I’m not familiar.”

  “We’re fighting for Nat rights,” Valencia said into her megaphone. “As you might remember, I used to be a Mag.” Valencia made a dramatic show of shuddering. “I know how evil and corrupt magic is.”

  “Oh brother,” A.J. groaned.

  “Director Gald-ah, as Nats, we are connected on a deep level,” Valencia persisted. “We have to stick together for the sake of all Nat-kind.”

  “Is she hitting on Graysen?” Yutika asked.

  Kaira balled her hands into fists. “Have you forgotten that you put a ten-thousand-dollar price on my husband’s head a few months ago?” she asked Valencia in an icy tone.

  Valencia’s upper lip curled in the perfect imitation of a snarl.

  “You are nothing,” Valencia told Kaira. “And Gald-ah will realize that soon enough.”

  “Kaira and I believe in equal rights for Magics and Naturals,” Graysen said in a calm voice that was the perfect palate-cleanser to Valencia’s crazy. “We have been clear—”

  “We’re called Naturals for a reason,” Valencia interrupted. She tipped her head back to stare up into the filled bleachers. “I’m offering a reward for anyone who can get me enough Magical Reduction Potion to inject every Mag and Super Mag in the city.”

  And that was why we were destroying all the Agent S. No one had the right to take away someone else’s magic.

  Valencia continued, “Then, we’ll all be equal. Then, Boston will be the way it was meant to be…Natural!”

  There wasn’t time for Graysen or Kaira to respond, or for the rest of us to react. A repeated popping sound filled the air. And then, out of nowhere, more people began to appear on the field.