Chapter Twenty-Three
Quinn
Leaving them both to clean up, Quinn heads back to the Lair. Casper is live and waiting, muttering to himself as he plays a video game off-camera. His avatar is so life-like that at times he forgets a real man is on the other side of the screen and not some cartoon character.
“They’ll be here in a minute,” he says, easing into the desk chair.
“That took you a while, everything go okay?”
Quinn grunts but doesn’t elaborate. He’d gone to the dormitory looking for Owen. Instead he found the two of them undressed and on the bed. That wasn’t what gave him pause though, it was hearing Astrid’s confession about using her hands. And Owen’s understanding she’d been with Quinn, too.
Whatever arrangement this is forming between the three of them is something different they’ll have to get used to. Or at least, he will.
He looks up to see Casper, or rather his avatar staring at him. “What?”
“Caught them boning, didn’t you?”
“Dude, no.” He exhales. “Shut up.”
“Look, you and I both know Astrid has developed a strong connection to you both. She needs that kind of relationship—supportive men that get her.” His voice lowers and becomes more serious than he’s heard it in a while. “Don’t let her down.”
“I’m not planning on it.”
“Good.” The video boots up on screen. “Don’t be too much of a dick about this, either—not until you hear what she has to say.”
“She got in a car with a stranger. It could have been anyone. What if Kincade sent one of his ghouls after her?”
“She’s not an idiot. She’s got good instincts and can kick ass if she needs to.”
“Did you see the size of that guy?”
“Yeah,” Casper admits. “He’d be hard to take down, but she’s still not stupid.”
Quinn feels the anger from before flaring up again. He can take a lot of things. Astrid with another man. Watching her climb into a burning building and running toward trouble. But this video makes him uncomfortable. Going off alone with a stranger and not telling him about it has triggered his protective nature.
The door swings open and Astrid walks in, hair clean but still damp. She’s got on her hoodie—shit—she’s probably preparing to hunker down in that thing. Owen walks in behind him and their eyes meet. Quinn nods, letting him know everything is good. Astrid may need both of their support, but that means they have to get on the same page.
“Okay,” Owen says, “Let’s see this film.”
Casper remotely starts the footage. Quinn has already seen it and instead watches Astrid. Her arms are crossed defensively. Owen watches the video with rapt interest, elbows propped on his knees. It’s not until the part at the end where she’s in the car with the bodyguard laughing that he straightens up and says, “Wait, were you flirting with that guy?”
“No.” Astrid scowls. “And what the hell, Cas? Stop being a buggy little pervert.”
The video stops. Casper says, “Look, I’m not going to lie. I’ve got every camera on public property rigged so that I can keep track of the city. I have photo recognition running on you guys, Kincade, Demetria, Jensen, and any of their known associates. I’m not being perverted. I’m being smart. It’s my job to watch, to wait, and to listen.”
“I agree it’s intrusive,” Quinn says. “But right now, with things so tense, it’s important we take every precaution. We’ve had a few death threats and the attempt at Owen’s house. Someone has to keep an eye on us when we’re out on the street.”
“Are you ready to hear my side of it now?” she asks.
“Yep. Go for it,” Owen says, leaning back in his seat.
“You saw how they cornered me. And you also saw how big that guy was. There was no getting past him, and when he said Demetria wanted to talk to me, I was curious.” She shoves her hands in the front pocket of the hoodie. “First of all, Quinn, you were right. Girlfriend lives in a straight-up fairytale. You wouldn’t believe her office. It’s like a rainbow-unicorn-fairy vomited in there and then coated the entire place in glitter.”
He can’t help but laugh. “Sounds about right.”
“She’s batshit, but I’m not sure she’s a lost cause. I told her about Kincade and what he wants us to do for him. We agreed to work together.”
“Excuse me?” Owen asks. “You did what?”
“We made an agreement,” she says. “We’ll keep the Swamp safe, help her prove he’s trying to steal her properties on the Harbor Line, and she’ll get Kincade off our back.”
“And what do we get?” Casper asks.
There’s a pause. The slightest hesitation. Her eyes flick between us. “She said she’d back off. Let us do our business and she’ll keep the crazy on a moderate level. No more Pixie Dust or attempts to fleece the rich like at the gala.”
Quinn can’t help but push. “Anything else?”
“She’ll stay away from you. All of you. No more of this Lost Boy shit.”
“While I appreciate you negotiating for us, there’s a huge problem here. You’ve got to commit to being more open with communication—like immediately. No more secret meetings or making deals without everyone involved.” Quinn settles his eyes on Astrid, knowing he’s being harsh and acting like an authoritarian dick, but risking her life isn’t acceptable. “Trust is the only way this team is going to work. The only, fucking, way.”
“Got it, boss,” Owen says. Quinn checks his expression for sarcasm but there is none. He seems to agree completely.
Astrid sighs. “I made a call. I don’t regret it, but I could have looped you in faster.”
“Aww,” Casper says. “You guys should hug it out. Like, really squeeze the shit out of her.”
“Shut up, Goblin,” Quinn says. “Or I’ll mute you.”
“I’ll override it.”
He opens his mouth to retort but a blip sounds from the computer and an aerial map pops up in the corner. It’s a city map, and from a quick glance it looks to be the Harbor Line. Red circles one of the buildings. “Not another fire,” Owen says with a groan.
“Not yet,” Casper says. “I put cameras on all of Demetria’s holdings to keep us ahead of Kincade. This is an abandoned school WIND-E has slated to revitalize as a charter school for the area. My alarm triggers if someone is inside. That one has been going off for the last hour. I think it’s just a bunch of kids tagging the walls or something. But it won’t hurt to suit up and head down there.”
“Sounds good,” Astrid says, already out of her chair. Owen has already moved to the changing room. Quinn reaches for her hand and holds her back.
“Are we okay?”
She nods. “I know you’re just being protective. It’s your nature.”
“You do?”
“I can smell it on you, Quinn. I have since day one. It’s comforting.” She smiles. “And a huge pain in the ass.”
She pushes up on her toes, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before going to change. Following her, Quinn notes the irony in the fact that for all of his worries, she’s the one that steadies him.
Chapter Twenty-four
Astrid
“Great, an abandoned school. Nothing can go wrong here.”
“Scared?” Quinn asks Owen.
“No, I’m not scared,” he replies, “But if something is going to go wrong, it’s in that building. Every horror movie ever told me so.”
Astrid has also seen enough episodes of The X-Files and Supernatural to know he’s right. The dark, broken windows. The chain link over the front door, cut down the middle so people can sneak in and out. Abandoned school is high on the list of terrifying locations, third down the list from an asylum and theme park.
The building is historic, which gives it an even spookier feel. Two stories with a large brick stairway leading to the front door. The windows are huge and during the daytime probably provide a lot of light. Unfortunately, it’s almost midnight and there’s no moon overhead. Owen and Quinn carry flashlights attached to their jackets. Astrid has a small one but with her enhanced eyesight she has no problem seeing.
“Casper’s right,” she says. “It’s probably just a kid’s tagging walls.”
“Thank you, Astrid,” Casper says over the com.
“And it’s dangerous for them to be in here so we should flush them out,” she adds. “Split up?”
Owen shakes his head. “You’re determined to set off the horror movie gods aren’t you? Thank god none of us are still a virgin.”
“What?” Quinn asks.
“In a horror movie, the virgin is always the first to get killed,” he says, smirking at Quinn. “Although it’s probably a good thing Casper isn’t actually here.”
“Hey!” he shouts, blasting their ears. Astrid winces and holds her hand to her ear.
“Don’t do that ever again,” she says to Casper. Then shoots Owen a glare. “And you’re not funny and your punishment for not being funny is to go first.”
Quinn holds back the chain link fence so Owen can slip through. She follows and runs up the steps and into the lobby of the old building. Offices sit on both sides along with long-empty trophy cases. A few murals are still visible beneath the peeling paint. Astrid never went to school. Neither did the others. It’s like walking into a relic of time.
“Crescent City Cavaliers,” Owen reads. The words and mascot are painted on the wall.
Ancient signs hang on the wall. Old but probably still accurate. She points. “Owen, take the hall to the right. Quinn, left. I’ll hit the library and gym.”
“That sounds really stupid,” Owen says. The tense lines on Quinn’s forehead says he agrees.
“Casper?” she asks, “Can you see us? Any concerns?”
“Nope. I’m not even getting any heat sensors other than you guys, but if you stay out of the cafeteria and avoid the ghost of mystery meat stew, you’ll be fine.”
Owen mutters a curse under his breath but heads off.
Quinn leans over and kisses her forehead for luck and does the same.
As their footsteps fade, she opens the door to the library. The books are long gone although the furnishings never were removed. A few sagging posters and faded bulletin boards still cling to the wall. The smell of chemicals hits her nose. Fresh.
“I’m scenting something,” she tells Casper. “Toxic.”
“Spray paint?” he asks. It’s logical. “If they’re tagging inside with no ventilation, then it’s going to get pretty smelly in there.”
A glint of silver flashes on the walls. She notices the paint then. A blocky signature across the back wall. “Yeah, they’ve been here.”
She passes through the room until she finds a door on the other side. It leads to another hall. A sign points to the gym. The chemical smell is still strong but out here she finds evidence of tagging; brightly colored graffiti coats the walls. The images are amazing—little anime-style characters. It’s impressive work. A sound tickles her ears. “I hear something.”
“Hold on,” Casper says, fussing with his systems. Her screen pops up. Fuzzy bodies move behind the wall ahead. “I’m counting four. Wait outside the door. I’ll call the others.”
She follows his directions and waits, listening to the voices inside the gym. There’s laughter. Some of it high-pitched while still male. Teens. Astrid tugs on her light, flipping it on. She shines it down the hallway, looking at the artwork again.
The smell is awful.
She pulls off her gloves and touches the surface. Sticky—almost wet. She holds her fingers to her nose and flinches from the toxicity.
“Echo,” Quinn says over the com. “Location?”
“South exit.”
“Pan?”
“Stage entry.”
“Charger is in the gym lobby,” Casper says. “Be quiet and careful. Remember, they’re probably kids. But they could be armed.”
“I do not want to be on the news for hurting teenagers, okay?” Astrid reminds them. “That is not the kind of PR any of us need right now.”
On the count of three, they enter the gym.
The kids are completely involved with their project, unaware that anyone else is in the room. They’ve got the bleachers pushed back and use the flat surface as a wall. Lights are clamped to the top of the stairs and a few lanterns sit along the floor. The scent of weed lingers over the spray paint.
“Shit,” Owen says.
“What?” she asks quietly. None of them have made a move.
“Look at the painting.”
It’s a city—their city—complete with the harbor and landmarks along the way. Astrid sees the park and then her gym. In the middle, high above the others, is the WIND-E building. A unicorn flies overhead. She steps closer, trying to get a better view. That’s when she spots the people.
Not just people.
Her team.
Anime-like characters like the ones in the hall stand out to her, dressed in their super suits and brandishing their weapons. It’s an incredible rendering even if it’s supposed to mock them. Her foot hits something and the sound of metal spins across the wooden floor.
She doesn’t even have time to react to her mistake before Owen and Quinn are by her side. The kids turn, startled from the racing of their heartbeats.
“Dude,” one says when he sees the trio. “It’s them.”
“He said they’d come,” another says.
“Who?” Quinn asks, his fingers twitching.
Astrid shoots him a look. “Don’t mess with your energy. There’s so much wet paint in here it could spark.”
Fuck.
“I think you guys need to get out of there,” Casper says. “Look at the bottom of the buildings.”
She narrows her eyes and sees it. Flames lick the bottom of everything on the mural. The buildings, the unicorns, and the heroes.
The kids take their distraction as an opportunity. Three scatter to the left. One to the right. “Don’t let them get away,” she says. “Someone got them to do this. And we need proof.”
There’s no hesitation with their roles. This is where their teamwork shines. Casper gives them each individual information and Astrid follows the kid she’s chasing through a set of doors into stairwell. He races down the cement steps, his long legs creating a distance between them. She looks over the railing. Three floors below. She slings her legs over the side and drops, falling and falling until she uses her hands to slow her speed. With her knees bent on landing, she stands two feet away from her runaway.
“Holy shit, Echo,” Casper cackles in her ear. She ignores him and grabs the kid, who is already turning back up the stairs.
Pushing him against the wall, his brown hair flops in his eyes. “Who told you to paint that?”
“Nobody. Artist interpretation.”
“Bullshit,” she says. The images were too specific. “You can tell me, or I’ll make you tell me.”
“No offense, but he’s way scarier than you are.”
With dread she holds him against the wall with one hand and pulls her glove off with her teeth. His eyes are wide and confused when she takes his dirty, paint-stained hand in hers.
“Don’t worry,” she tells him. “This won’t hurt.”
Fear. Panic.
That’s what he feels now. She needs to know the other stuff. The echo of his memory. She pushes in deeper.
Laughing. Stoned. Tagging Under a Bridge. A face. Black hair. Pale skin. A roll of cash in his hand.
Astrid blinks. She’s seen the guy before. One of Kincade’s goons.
“Kincade put you up to this?”
“Who?”
He wouldn’t know that. She tries again. “Who paid you that money?”
The confusion and fear rolls off him like a stank sweat. “How do you know about the money?”
“Kid, don’t mess with me. Just tell me the truth. If not, I’ll get it out of you another way. It will hurt me and then it will hurt you. Using your words is way better.”
He thinks for a half a second longer, too long, and Astrid tightens her grip on his hand. She dives in again.
Small house. A bed. Sick woman coughing. The kid standing over her. Grief.
Astrid shakes off the last one but it’s real. Deeply embedded. It tugs at her. “You took the money for your mom? She’s sick?”
He nods. “Grandma.”
“Whoever is doing this is using you. He’ll torch this place and you guys will end up in jail. Is that what your grandma needs? Is this guy worth it?”
“I don’t know his name,” he says in a cracking voice that reveals his youth. “But he found us where we tag under the bridge. He gave us the paint. Told us what to put up there. He said to be done by midnight.”
“Or what?”
He shrugs. “I have no intention of finding out.”
Astrid has a feeling they’re cutting close on the deadline.
“We need to get out of here.”
“But we didn’t finish. He said he was going to check.”
“Cas,” I say into the com. “Where are the others?”
“Outside. One kid caught climbing the fence. The other two are cornered by the old baseball field.”
“Your friends bailed. You need to go with them. I’ll deal with the guy.”
“He’s dangerous.” His eyes dart to the door. “I’ve seen what he can do.”
“What can he do?”
The kid holds up his hand in offering. He must have figured out what Astrid can do and how she does it. “What’s your name?”
He hesitates but says, “Luby,” with a sigh.
“I’m Echo,” she replies, wrapping her fingers around his.
Luby painting the underside of a bridge. Silver cans. He coughs. Nausea. The man raises his hand and a small spark appears. Luby backs away. The man tosses it at the wall. Fire ripples up the surface.
Astrid gulps for air.
“It was so hot,” Luby says. “And he made the fire with a snap of his fingers. I’ve never been so scared.”
“Go,” she says, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “Find your friends. Lay low.”
He nods and runs to the back door. “One last thing,” he calls. “He has a street name. It’s lame but…”
“What’s that?”
“Blaze.”
*
“I’m heading upstairs. Luby told me he’s coming back.”
“Who’s coming back?” Casper asks.
“Blaze—the guy starting the fire. I saw him in Luby’s echo. He’s one of the guys working with Kincade. He was at the warehouse that night.”
Astrid doesn’t say what’s really nagging at her. She’s seen this power at work before and he was at the group home, a member of Project 12.
“Where are Charger and Pan?” she asks, reaching the doors to the gym. The toxic smell is stronger up here.
“They chased the other kids down. I think Charger is lecturing them about private property right now.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sounds about right.”
“Echo, I really don’t like you being in there alone right now.”
“I’m not alone,” she says, pushing open the doors. “You’re with me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“If this is our chance to stop him, then I should.”
He doesn’t respond but his silence says volumes.
Astrid wedges her foot in the edge of the bleachers, climbing to the top. It’s a good vantage point. She checks the time on her screen and at exactly midnight the main doors open. Blaze walks in.
He’s thin with dark hair and she knows in her gut who he is. He’s one of them, one of the twelve.
Devin. The fire starter. It’s hard to tell from his features, but people change. Some look exactly the same but others shift so much it’s impossible to recognize them. She closes her eyes for a moment and tries to get a sense of the kid from the group home. The one so desperately trying to control his power. All she gets in return is the strong smell of sulfur and a heavy dose of angst.
“Luby!” the man calls walking in the gym. “Come out, kid!” His voice bounces back and his feet echo off the wooden floors. He stops before the bank of bleachers, checking out the incomplete mural. Astrid hides in a well at the top.
“Worthless punk,” he mutters, and she hears the unmistakable clink of a spray can. She dares a look and watches as he sprays the paint into the air and uses his fingers to light a flame. The spray instantly becomes a torch.
“I know you’re in here,” he says, and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. “Can’t mind your own damn business, can you?”
“I think he’s talking to you,” Casper says. “Do not engage.”
She ignores the Goblin.
In a swift move, Astrid hops over the edge of the bleachers and lands on the floor. Her braid flops over her shoulder and she slowly stands with her hands on her hips.
Blaze smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Looks like we’re both tracking one another.”
She shrugs. “I like knowing who I’m dealing with.”
“I thought that was clear? You and the boss had a deal.”
“Kincade is a sleazeball businessman out to make money. This isn’t about money for you. It’s something different.” She tilts her head and studies him. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and dark jeans. He’s tall and thin—not much muscle. His sideburns are long and his blue-black hair slicks back. She desperately tries to find Devin, the boy she knew at the home, in his hazel eyes but there’s nothing recognizable there. Not anymore.
“We’re both something different, sweetheart.” He smiles. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“I can’t let you destroy any more property. What you and Kincade are doing isn’t okay. It’s criminal, and I’m tired of having to go in and save lives and clean up your mess.”
“I saw your heroics on the news. People love you, what’s wrong with that? You’re special. You can handle a little risk.” He spreads his arms wide. “People love Kincade, too. He’s cleaning up this mess of a neighborhood. Rebuilding and revitalizing.”
“No. You’re hurting people.”
He winks. “Not if you and your friends get there in time. It’s a win-win, sweetheart.”
They stand across from one another but there’s no doubt he’s got the upper hand when it comes to weaponry. He’ll burn her alive before she ever reaches him and she doubts many of her tools will stop him before he lights the place up. She does the unthinkable to make him stop.
She reveals herself.
“Leave this one alone, okay, Devin?” She relaxes her pose. “For me.”
“What did you call me?”
“Devin. That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Fuck Echo. Fuck,” Casper freaks in her ear.
He narrows his eyes and the darkness behind them is intense, but there’s also something else. A recognition, a flicker of familiarity. It’s only there for an instant and then it vanishes.
“My name is Blaze and you better move out of my way or you’ll be nothing but an oily smear on the floor.” Flame bursts from his hand. It’s not the spark from Luby’s memory or even the small flame from before. It’s a ball of fire, so hot she can feel it ten feet away.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Devin,” she tries again. “But you’re not alone. I can help you. We all can.”
He reacts by throwing the ball of fire at her head. She ducks, but in her heart she knows the fire won’t hit her. He can’t use his power against her any more than she can use hers against him. But fire is tricky—dangerous—and that paint-stained wall behind her catches and a ripple of fire runs up the bleachers.
“Stop!” she screams. “This is not what we are made for!”
“This is exactly what we’re made for, Astrid!” her name bounces off the room. He knows her name. He knows her. “This is who we are. Weapons with a purpose. It’s not my fault you don’t know your place or worth in the world!”
“My place?” She eyes the growing ball in his hand. This time bigger. More deadly. It could take the whole place up.
“Don’t think they won’t come for you. I know they killed your mentor. Quinn’s and Owen’s, too. They won’t kill you, but they will find you.” He steps closer and the heat is unbearable. Sweat drips down her neck and back. “And they’ll put you to use just like me.”
He backs away quickly, faster than she can react. He tosses the massive ball of fire and it lops over her head. “You’re better off dead. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”
The fireball lands in the chemicals and in an instant engulfs the floor. Cans of paint heat and explode. She runs toward the door, leaping over the fire. But it spreads quickly, too quickly, and soon she’s surrounded by an impenetrable blaze.
“Cas, I’m in trouble.”
The ear piece grows hot and she yanks it out before she can hear his response.
Smoke fills the room, filling her lungs. Sweat pools against her palms and the fingertips of her gloves. Falling to her knees, she knows this is it. There’s no way in or out. Devin wants her dead.
She falls over, coughing and covering her mouth. The heat is unbearable—her skin pulls tight. A flash of black catches her eye. She’s sure it’s the reaper coming for her. A shadow crosses over her and strong hands lift her off the floor. Half-conscious, she’s aware of being carried through the flames, her head covered by something hard and metal.
The air just outside the gym is clearer but still not safe and her body is racked with spasms from the smoke. The crash of glass is followed by her falling to the ground. Wet grass. A hovering shadow. She reaches up and feels sharp angle of a jaw.
“Quinn?”
He tugs her gloves off, peeling away the melting fabric, and his warm hand meets hers.
A window explodes behind her and flame seeks oxygen. Light fills the night and she sees his face. It’s not Quinn.
His eyes aren’t quite right and his shoulders, while broad, are too narrow. He holds something over her head, protecting her from raining glass.
“You…” she says, trying to form the words. He looks down on her and his name is on the tip of her tongue.
The world turns black.