The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath

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The Pantheon Saga | Book 4 | Gods of Wrath Page 21

by Ekeke, C. C.


  “No,” Helena said. “You operate on some foolish assumption that Seraph was your friend.” Her calm, detached delivery cut much deeper than explosive anger. “So you pal around with her taking superhero selfies like an idiotic fangirl.”

  The words hit Quinn below the belt. “That’s unfair.”

  “How so?” Helena stretched her shoulder again. “Your brain always short-circuits around superheroes.”

  That pissed Quinn off. “You’re seriously relitigating The Vanguard Interviews? You said you trusted me.”

  Helena’s cold sneer dropped the room temperature by several degrees. “Clearly I was wrong.” She looked ready to say more. Then she rounded her desk and sat wearily. “Get out of my sight.” She gave a curt, two-finger dismissal.

  Quinn remained rooted in place, wanting to believe Helena’s venom came from stress and withdrawal. That delusion lessened the hurt.

  “Are you waiting for a sign from God?” Helena roared. “GO!”

  Quinn turned and fled—heartbroken a third time today.

  Chapter 28

  A slap to the face jarred Greyson from sleep. His eyes open to glaring light, muscles painfully stiff.

  “Wake up, sunshine,” a stern voice declared.

  Greyson roused to find himself seated against a cold, steel wall. The low rumble and erratic jostle beneath him spoke of a vehicle moving over uneven roads.

  He tried rubbing his face and found both hands manacled together by dull-grey restraints.

  My powers are dampened. He bit down a curse.

  The image of ShocKing standing over him wiped away his grogginess. Greyson then looked up at his five captors. Ice washed down his body.

  His gaze fell on an older man with silvery shaggy hair. He was slubby in build and American, his face too plain to stand out in a crowd. Greyson instantly knew he was a spook.

  That wasn’t the source of his panic. ShocKing stood near this agent, arms folded arrogantly. His unit suit was slim and black like his companion, a burly female with a surly, box-shaped face.

  “Brickhouse and ShocKing,” he wheezed. Both were standing before him in the flesh. “How did you escape supermax?”

  “They didn’t,” the plain-faced man answered.

  “Thanks to you.”

  The familiar voice startled Greyson. He turned right and gasped. An older dark-skinned man stood beside a little Asian woman with sleek hair, both in identical black uniforms. The former super had lost weight and gone bald since Greyson had last seen him.

  “Israel… and Connie?” A wrecking ball of emotions struck Greyson. Hunger, anger, relief, hurt, and confusion. If Connie felt the same, her face remained a stunning mask revealing nothing.

  Greyson had to avert his gaze. Seeing Connie was too painful, especially on opposing sides.

  Big Izzy had no smiles for Greyson. “That’s right, muthafucka.” He rubbed calloused hands together. Clearly, he’d suffered in prison.

  ShocKing and Brickhouse chortled at the awkwardness until the agent quieted them with a look.

  Greyson struggled to compose himself, feeling so helpless. “What…why are you here?”

  “To catch you,” the agent replied tautly. “Agent Orr. OSA. You appeared on lots of radars, Mr. Hirsch.”

  Brickhouse’s boxy face was gleeful. “We’re getting a reduced sentence to capture you.”

  Connie remained silent.

  “Where are you taking me?” Greyson knew the answer but wanted confirmation.

  “Back to America,” Orr's plain features darkened. “To answer for your crimes.”

  Greyson locked eyes with Big Izzy, old guilt surfacing. “Izzy…I’m sorry.”

  ShocKing burst out laughing. Brickhouse snickered.

  Big Izzy’s expression turned murderous. “For what? Your ex-girlfriend ratting us out to save you” he spat, referring to Lauren Gerard. Another painful recollection. “Or killing Hurricane?”

  Greyson sat dazed. Relitigating events that turned him into…whatever he’d become? I’m not the villain. Yet he didn’t regret killing Hurricane. “If Hurricane had done his job, we wouldn’t be here.”

  Connie closed her eyes, turning away. Greyson flinched. Had she always felt this way?

  Ignoring her rejection, he spotted two missing members. “Are Tommy and Kathy here?”

  “Like you care?” Izzy growled. ShocKing and Brickhouse laughed harder.

  “I want to apologize to them,” Greyson replied. His ex-teammate’s hostility was justified.

  Now Big Izzy chuckled. “You’ll get your chance—”

  “Izzy,” Orr interjected.

  Big Izzy promptly hushed. This Orr guy had the group on tight leashes. Or something more sinister, Greyson wondered. Not good.

  ShocKing stomped forward until he and Greyson were a few feet apart. “Hurricane was mine to kill.” Blue lightning crackled in his eyes. “You’re gonna suffer for stealing that from me.”

  In the far corner, Connie tensed but didn’t approach.

  Orr stood. While not tall, he had a forceful presence. “No one does anything without my say-so.”

  ShocKing grudgingly backtracking gave Greyson a stupid idea. At this point, he had no options or allies. “ShocKing’s a government lapdog?”

  “Fuck you,” ShocKing threw back. “I’m a man who fights my own battles.”

  “Enough, Hirsch,” Orr warned.

  “A man?” Greyson laughed wickedly. “I see an overgrown boy in cosplay. Always needing backup.”

  ShocKing purpled. He made furious moves toward Greyson, only for Brickhouse to block him. She whispered soothingly in his ear.

  Connie finally advanced, eyeing ShocKing cautiously. “ShocKing. Enough, please.”

  ShocKing gave her a disgusted onceover. “Shaddup, sideho.”

  Izzy reared up furiously. Suddenly the four supers were shouting. Orr did his best to diffuse the tension.

  Meanwhile, Greyson had to find an escape. Not just for his freedom. I have business with Diablo. He kept digging. “You suck so bad, ShocKing, you lost to a team of half-trained rookies.”

  ShocKing whirled around with venomous eyes.

  Greyson kept going, actually enjoying himself. “When I broke your arms, you screamed for your mommy like a little bitch.”

  Big Izzy and Connie looked sharply at ShocKing, who was about to erupt.

  Orr advanced on Greyson. “Quiet, or I silence you myself.” His threat held a promise.

  Greyson didn’t care. “The rest of your life, ShocKing, you’ll be carrying my gift.”

  Brickhouse barely held back a trembling ShocKing. She didn’t understand, of course. “What gift?”

  Greyson twisted the knife. “That you’re alive because I allowed it.”

  It was the final insult. “You’re dead!” ShocKing snaked a hand out and discharged forks of crackling lightning, like Greyson had hoped.

  “ShocKing!” Orr bellowed.

  Connie screamed. Big Izzy stood transfixed.

  The lightning struck Greyson’s manacled forearms, which he’d raised just in time. Fire sizzled through him. Suddenly, Greyson got slammed into the wall, the air driven from him. But when the assault ended, he found the cable connecting his manacles severed.

  Power leaked into his frame, coming and going. Meaning the dampeners weren’t fully disabled. But Greyson had little time to worry as ShocKing maneuvered around Brickhouse and stampeded forward.

  “Batter up!” Greyson swung a manacled forearm, cracking ShocKing in the jaw. The super went spinning around and toppled to the ground.

  Brickhouse marched toward Greyson with hostile intentions. “I’m gonna break you in half, toothpick.”

  “Enough!” Orr boomed.

  Brickhouse grunted, then collapsed. Izzy and Connie staggered around, their eyes glassy from clear discomfort.

  Greyson saw why. Orr removed his finger from a forearm gauntlet. Connie leaned on a wall, blinking. Big Izzy sank onto a bench. Brickhouse slumped to a knee.


  He’s controlling them with implants. Greyson pushed upright. His back and neck screamed.

  ShocKing stirred.

  Orr addressed his conscripted operatives with a no-nonsense expression. “We successfully captured Hirsch with no casualties or injuries. Keep it that way.” He scrutinized Greyson before turning to Connie. “Thanks for the intel, Constance.”

  Her tight smile didn’t reach her slanted eyes. “My pleasure,” she said, not sounding remotely pleased. Greyson’s jaw dropped. Her? His thoughts scrambled from this undenied betrayal. He opened his mouth angrily, not knowing what might emerge, until something walloped the armored truck violently. Everyone got thrown in every which way. Suddenly Greyson was off his feet, colliding with Big Izzy and Brickhouse, Orr, then a wall, then ShocKing.

  The chaos ended seconds later. Greyson ached everywhere, draped over an unconscious Orr. Brickhouse, Connie, and the others lay strewn across the compartment. A blast, then a crash. By who?

  A flashbang blew off the doors, gold morning flooding the truck. The well-made silhouette stepped through the opening, carrying an assault rifle. He held out a hand. “Need a lift?”

  Greyson shielded his eyes. The warmth bathing him had nothing to do with the sun. “Saed?” He took his teammate’s hand in disbelief.

  “Yep.” Saed pulled Greyson upright.

  Greyson stepped forward on his left foot. Piercing pain buckled his leg. Saed caught him before he collapsed. Felt like a sprain, he hoped.

  “How’d you find me?” Greyson asked.

  Saed assisted him out of the truck. Thick, exotic green forests flanked both sides of the well-paved road. Saed helped him across one side. “Remember the subdermal tracker we all got?”

  That jogged Greyson’s bleary mind. “Jesus.” The dermal implant had been the first order of business after his initiation into the Vertebreakers.

  He stared in disbelief at Saed as they stepped into the light. “You…you came for me,” Greyson repeated, more to himself than Saed.

  “You’re part of the team.” Saed said as if this was the most obvious choice.

  Greyson shook his head incredulously. He took one last look back inside the upside-down truck, smoke spilling from its belly. Connie was still unconscious. Greyson’s heart ached. He knew their separation had been painful…and ugly. But betrayal?

  Greyson turned before his eyes began watering. “Let’s get back to the compound. There are more of them out here.” He nodded back at the downed truck.

  Saed frowned while helping him limp along. “Who are they?”

  Greyson almost lied. But Saed had just rescued him and deserved an explanation. “People from my past,” he replied. “They’re supers like me.”

  Saed’s expression turned grim. “Can you fly us back?”

  Greyson almost tried, then remembered his shackles. “My powers are fritzed until I lose these cuffs.”

  Saed nodded. “Let’s—”

  A gunshot rang out. Saed arched back. Greyson lurched away, stepping on his sprained ankle.

  But seeing Saed’s bafflement at a growing red pool on his own chest, Greyson’s pain was forgotten.

  Greyson whirled to find the suspect, greeted by metal smacking his jaw. Compacted soil rushed up to his face. Stars dotted his vision as he gaped up at a slender, sour-faced attacker. “Rikki?”

  Saed sank to his knees. Blood dribbled from his wound. “What…the hell??” He sounded so weak.

  Another betrayal. Greyson knew Rikki reviled him. But betraying Saed, whom she’d known for years?

  Rikki shook her thick mane in disappointment. “I told you to leave him, Saed. You wouldn’t listen.” She raised her handgun and squeezed the trigger.

  After a loud flash, Saed slumped over.

  “Nothing personal,” Rikki concluded coldly.

  Horror overwhelmed Greyson’s fading consciousness. He tried to move.

  But his body wouldn’t respond, growing number by the second.

  Rikki crouched beside him. Her eyes smoldered with hatred. “If Delgado didn’t want you dead, I’d kill you myself.”

  That was the last thing Greyson remembered.

  Chapter 29

  Quinn awoke from blissful slumber, finding herself alone in bed. Did last night actually happen? That wiped away her smile, leaving her cowering beneath her sheets.

  Then the thrum of an arrow sounded through the closed door, followed by the shuck of an arrowhead gouging a hard surface.

  Kicking away bedsheets, Quinn leaped from bed as adrenaline took over. She threw open her door to grab her Taser and defend Therese.

  The vigilante stood in the living room, sweaty and bathed in sunlight. Therese still wore last night’s pajama pants and tank top, neck-length hair stringy. She notched an arrow from the quiver slung across her back into her recurve bow.

  Seven arrows studded the round target hanging at the far end of the condo.

  Therese turned, and her whole demeanor changed. “Morning,” she said with a glowing smile.

  Quinn couldn’t help smiling back. “Hi.” Electricity crackled between them more intensely than last night. She wanted more of this lingering afterglow.

  “Shooting in the morning clears my head,” Therese explained. “Sorry for waking you.” Sweat beaded on her brow as she fired another arrow. SHKKK. It nailed near the bull’s-eye.

  “You didn’t.” Quinn loved seeing Therese getting stronger. “It’s…you weren’t there when I woke up.”

  Therese’s blush deepened.

  Quinn’s smile faded. God, that sounded needy. She wanted to kick herself for being so weak, succumbing to Therese’s nocturnal comforts. Spotting the vigilante’s laptop on the coffee table, she switched topics. “I take it you weren’t just practicing?” Quinn sat on the couch.

  “I was speaking with Domino about patrolling.”

  Therese returning to the field before she’d fully healed? Quinn had a visceral response, strong and against. “You can’t!"

  Therese raised a calm hand. “I’m only offering Domino advice.” She placed her bow on the coffee table. Her lovely face softened. “Blackjack and me are on the shelf, Geist…dead,” Therese looked like she’d swallowed a lemon saying that part. “And other vigilantes in our network are occupied. Domino needs all the support Clint and I can offer.”

  Tension bled from Quinn’s shoulders that she hadn’t even noticed. “I know Geist meant a lot to you.”

  Therese stared back reproachfully, wiping sweat from her brow. “You have no idea.”

  Quinn patted the seat beside her. “Tell me.” There was so much she didn’t know about Therese.

  The archer came off suspicious, probably weighing whether this was a legit request. Then she relaxed, removing her quiver and sitting gingerly alongside Quinn. “After winning my gold medal, I had all this fame and money. And I couldn’t handle it. Didn’t have the guts to face my bullshit. So, I partied my face off, burning through my endorsements.” Normally Therese’s unwavering stare would be drilling into Quinn’s brain. Now, she was radiating such humiliation, barely making eye contact. Quinn had to keep from hugging her.

  “Until a certain organization made me an offer I should’ve refused,” Therese said. “Use my archery skills for some off-books game hunting. Make big money. I was young and stupid enough to accept.”

  Not the origin story Quinn was expecting. “I’m guessing it went south?”

  Therese nodded. “Next thing I know, I’m a brainwashed sleeper assassin. Killing on command.”

  Quinn’s mouth hung open. “Whoa.”

  “At one point,” Therese continued, her voice rough, “I was sent to kill Geist. He’d become a problem for this organization.” She shook her head. “Instead of killing me, he broke my programming.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Therese’s eyes sparkled with tears. Her love and respect for Geist was obvious. “I tried dismantling the organization alone. Almost died. Which I wanted.” She chuckled at
Quinn’s horrified reaction. “Couldn’t return to a normal life after what I’d done. But Geist saved me again. After that, he trained me to use my skills for the greater good.”

  She slumped back on the couch. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. “Anyway…” Therese went rigid, her emotional armor returning...until Quinn reached over and brushed away the tears. The act of affection was instinctive and felt right in the moment.

  Therese relaxed. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Any update on Paxton-Brandt?”

  Quinn officially hated that question. “Waiting for Hurricane Seraph/Blur/Sentinel quadrangle to blow over.”

  Therese looked annoyed. “Where does that leave you?”

  Quinn had no frustration left. “Back to superhero gossip bullcaca. But I’m still on our Spotlight team, fact-checking the crap out of everything to make sure our exposé is impenetrable.”

  “Still nothing more about the Titan clone?” Therese inquired bitterly. Anger burned away her sorrow.

  Quinn scowled, as disappointed as the vigilante appeared. “Hugo's helping when he can…” And helping himself to Jodie. Aaagh. “But with Lady Liberty MIA, he’s busy patrolling the city.” She took Therese’s hand and squeezed. “Geist’s death will be avenged. Paxton-Brandt’s going down.”

  The vigilante squeezed back. “And Helena?”

  Again, Quinn shook her afroed head. “Three days, and she’s still ignoring me. Seraph won’t take my calls. Annie’s in Europe.” The close friends she’d lost recently landed like bone-shattering blows.

  Therese guided Quinn by the jaw in her direction. “You won’t lose me.” Her whisper was husky.

  Quinn swayed. Whoa. The magnetic pull between them had become addicting.

  Fear broke through, snapping her out of the trance. “About last night….” Quinn stood and put distance between herself and Therese. “And the night before that...”

  Therese sighed. “And the night before that. I know what they weren’t.” Her eyes dulled.

 

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