Envy (The Deadly Seven Book 1)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  The sense of envy peaked so high that Evan knew this man would do anything—even kill an innocent kid—for whatever he had in his hands.

  Anger surged in Evan’s veins and he slid his twin Katanas free, counting the gang members as he went. One, two, three, four. Potentially all with weapons. Best to draw them away from the child. He whistled and then ducked behind an alcove wall, waiting as the sin-signatures came closer with the men.

  This could get bloody.

  The instant he thought it, he knew it didn’t have to. He had a new weapon—electricity.

  He sheathed the swords and amped up his voltage, building the pressure until it crackled and sparked at his fingers. One of the gang members cried out as they spotted the sparks lighting up his hiding spot. The second a head popped around his alcove, Evan struck out with his fist, letting loose a current of electricity at the same time. The smell of ozone filled the air with a sizzle and pop, and then the man dropped, crispy and fried, but still alive.

  Evan tested him with his boot. He rolled to his side, moaning, but incapacitated.

  Excellent.

  Next.

  Evan launched forward to meet the next guy coming at him, and the next. By the time he got to the fourth man… he took one look at the crackling power in Evan’s fists and fled. Evan could still see a snapshot of the man’s surprised face in the blue light of Evan’s power.

  He did all of this without being noticed by the two on the other side of the flaming drum, but he didn’t waste time in running over.

  I know that kid, was Evan’s first thought, swiftly followed by, I recognize that purse.

  “I found it. It’s mine,” a small boy cried, wide eyes darting to the sides, looking for escape. He had the same oversized Yankees shirt, same dirty jeans, and the same holes in his sneakers.

  The big thug raised his fingerless gloved fist. “I’m warning you. Hand it over.”

  The brazen boy shook his beanie-covered head and was rewarded with a box to the ears.

  “Hey, kid,” Evan said, voice modified and deep. “This thug causing you grief?”

  The meathead’s fist paused mid-air for another strike. The kid flinched. Both looked at Evan.

  He sauntered forward, casting his own body into the light.

  “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” growled the thug, never loosening his grip on the purse.

  “Serious?” Evan cocked his head. Hell, if the public had forgotten what the Deadly Seven looked like, it wasn’t good. No wonder an idiot like this threatened a child. He growled. “You left yourself wide open with that one, bud. I’m your worst nightmare.”

  Before the thug’s jaw twitched in response, Evan closed the gap and connected his fist to the man’s throat. Hard. The thug’s head snapped back and he let go of the purse, choking and falling to the floor. Evan didn’t use electricity. Somehow, he wanted to make this last. The man tried to get up, and Evan popped him again. This time he stayed down. Disappointing.

  The kid bolted.

  Evan released a throwing star his way. It pierced the purse straps and shot forward to embed in the alley wall, pinning the purse to the brown brick. The kid gasped, and then turned with his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry Mr. Deadly sir. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. You remember me?”

  He nodded, but had shrewd eyes. “Your voice is different.”

  “It’s a disguise. Consider yourself lucky to have heard and seen the real me.”

  This made the kid beam.

  “Okay,” he continued. “So we never got a chance to introduce ourselves properly the other morning. I’m Envy. What’s your name?”

  “Taco,” he said, bottom lip trembling, dropping his hands.

  “Why are you out so late, and why are you stealing purses?”

  “I didn’t steal it. I found it, and … it belongs to someone I know.”

  Evan tugged the purse free from the throwing star and inspected the contents. It was as he’d expected. Grace’s ID had been removed.

  “Where did you find this, Taco?”

  “Just a little north of the line.” The boy pointed in the direction of the Quadrant, and the gallery where his exhibition was held.

  The line was the freeway that split the Quadrant and the South-Side. Some called it the poverty line because, as the further you got from it, the worse the state of living. The mid-town apartments, where they currently were, morphed into rickety buildings and slums further south of the line.

  “How do you know who it belongs to? There’s no ID.” Evan turned the purse over in his hands.

  “I seen her use it before.”

  “I’ll take it back to her,” Evan offered.

  “But…” The boy sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his fingerless gloves.

  While the fire crackled behind them, warming his back, Evan focused on Taco. His face was gaunt with dark hollows under his eyes. The kid was clearly run down, sick, or suffering from malnutrition. Without another word, Evan fished into the purse and retrieved the cash. He handed it to the boy.

  “Take it,” he said.

  “But… it’s stealing.”

  “No it’s not. I’ll pay her back, so if you really think about it, the money is from me. Consider it a thank you for helping me out the other day.” If it weren’t for him, Evan would never have met Grace.

  “Really?” The boy took the rolled up cash. “Does that mean I can get an autograph, too?”

  “Don’t push it, kid. Now scram before I change my mind about catching you out this late. The streets are no place for kids at night.”

  Taco took the money and ran, leaving Evan to wonder about the purse and Sara’s trajectory from the gallery in the Quadrant, to where he stood in mid-town. Where was she headed?

  Thirteen

  Grace couldn’t sleep well on the best of nights, but after her midnight visitor, her dreams became fitful. She tossed and turned, caught in a daze between irritation from the scratch on her arm, and thoughts colliding about the dark, heroic stranger at her window, and Evan. One minute, she remembered her fear in the alley when Sara attacked. The next, she remembered the kiss shared with Evan. The touch of his warm lips, the press of his firm body… but then she saw him strangle Sara, somehow electrify her—and then he turned up at Grace’s window to make sure she got home safe.

  It was obviously him. Must be him. Who else would turn up?

  Just making sure you got home safe.

  Evan being Envy would explain so much. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Curiosity had her picking apart his ability. Was it real electricity? Or had he somehow used a super Taser gun? Maybe it had something to do with his supernumerary.

  She didn’t quite know what to make of him or his involvement with Sara, or Sara being engaged to Wrath. Wrath would be one of Evan’s brother’s then, the one left clutching Sara’s dead body over the rubble of the building. Maybe even one of the brothers she’d met at the gallery. Somehow she couldn’t place a movie star or billionaire playboy clutching a dead body over the rubble.

  One after another, her thoughts skipped from topic to topic, then cycled back again.

  She was so close to uncovering the truth. So close to getting compensation for the lives lost by that tragedy. She could almost taste it.

  It was all too much.

  With her mind running a million miles an hour, Grace gave up on sleep and got out of bed at a cold four-thirty, well before dawn. Already formulating a day plan in her mind, she wrapped a blanket around her shivering arms and went to her kitchen, mentally going through recent evidence to see if any old clues were cast into a new light. By the time she put the kettle on, she’d mentally cycled through enough to realize she had nothing of value. Sure, she’d learned plenty that day, but in the end she’d gathered no proof of Sara’s involvement in the crime, let alone her existence.

  Stirring the milk and sugar into her coffee, she watched the liquid swirl.

&n
bsp; Sara’s body had been crushed in the explosion yet there she was last night looking fresh and new, not a scar in sight. Grace hadn’t been a first responder, nor had she worked during the weeks after the incident when she recovered from her own injuries, but she’d seen the grainy video footage of Wrath clutching Sara’s limp and lifeless body. She was dead. Dead in the ground dead.

  So how was she walking around?

  The name Sara hadn’t been listed on the bombing victim manifest, and it had been pointless to speak to the medical examiner about the Jane Does. Although, maybe now Grace knew Sara’s first name, she could go back to speak to the ME on duty the day of the bombing. Maybe he remembered something odd about one of the bodies. She was willing to follow any lead to uncover Sara’s full identity.

  By six o’clock, Grace had showered and dressed in warm clothes, eager to get to work. It was a clinic day, so she’d be busy. Too busy to make lunch with her girlfriend Lilo at Heaven. Lilo would be disappointed, and Grace wouldn’t hear the end of her thoughts about canceling yet another lunch date, but it was unavoidable. Grace’s short break would be filled with the visit to the ME. Hopefully by the end of the day, she would have good news to tell Taco when he came into the clinic for a visit.

  As she got to her front door, she gave her apartment a sweeping glance. As usual, the silence and emptiness was worst in the mornings and the ghosts of her past were the loudest. She could almost hear her mother humming as she tidied up Grace’s mess and watered her indoor plants, and then there was her father grumbling as he investigated the crack in the wall above the kitchen sink. A pang of regret deepened in her soul. They’d been so proud of her achievements. Her father had given up everything in Japan when he fell in love with her mother. They’d come to Cardinal City both broke, but in love, happy to start a life together. The fact that their only daughter was a surgeon had meant the world to them.

  Why the hell did you want to move closer to this dump, mom and dad?

  The question echoed in her mind, and as usual, no one answered. No one answered because she already knew. They wanted to be closer to her. To keep an eye on her because she was too busy to look after herself, saying that one day, she would care for them when they were old and gray and repay the favor.

  Grace quickly unbolted the locks on her door and hastened into the hall, almost tripping over a full smoothie cup in her pathway.

  Damned kids down the hall must have left rubbish lying around again.

  The disposable cup was cold as though freshly blended inside.

  Odd.

  She glanced down the hall but saw nothing that would indicate a stranger had gotten into the complex and left the gift. It crossed her mind that Evan had somehow returned, but that didn’t quite compute. He’d originally arrived via her fire escape. That left the only sane explanation: must be rubbish.

  She picked it up, and a note fell from the bottom.

  Sorry about last night. E.

  So it was Evan. Was it? Something about the entire thing felt wrong. From the little she knew of Evan, he didn’t seem like a surprise smoothie in the morning kind of guy. He was a night owl. She took the cup into the kitchen, cursing as the liquid leaked over her fingers.

  “Damn it.” Grace cradled the cup until she got to the sink where it promptly spilled in a torrent of vanilla and milk. “Gross.” She flinched. It smelled off.

  She quickly wiped up her mess on the bench, eyes catching on another Post-it note that must have fallen, but on closer inspection, the handwriting was different, yet again.

  Keep smiling, beautiful.

  She smiled. This was more like Evan. It even had a little scribble drawing of a doctor on it.

  Two random notes in one morning? Whatever the reason, she had no time to worry about it now. She left the apartment, locking it securely behind.

  By the time Grace made it to the hospital, her nerves were on edge. Not only had the spilled smoothie rattled her but when she’d stopped by the newspaper stand, Taco wasn’t there. Worry tickled the edge of her thoughts. If the boy was too stubborn to come to her at the clinic later, then she’d go to him. She made a mental note to return on the way home and visit his aunt’s apartment with her medical kit. They lived in her building, so it wasn’t far.

  When entering the hospital, she discretely slipped past the triage nurse and into the back end where she found the administration office that housed the computers and iPads. Usually, this time of day it was empty, but today, the Chief of Staff sat in front of a computer, typing away.

  Jeff Granger was a thin man with the personality of a rake. Balding on top, tufts of gray hair over his ears matched the hair growing out of them. Round spectacles slid half down his nose. Worn down by years of saying no to staff vacation requests and roster changes, the man barely said boo anymore, but he was excellent at his job. The hospital ran like clockwork, and Grace liked him because he was a case of, What you see is what you get.

  “Morning Jeff.” Grace walked in and surreptitiously eyed one of the iPads. “You’re studious to be in so early. Guess this is why the hospital runs so efficiently.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Grace. I’ve been trying to contact you.”

  “You have?” She forced her grin to not waver and removed her coat.

  “Yes, is there something wrong with your phone?”

  “I was mugged yesterday and haven’t had a chance to get a new one.”

  “Not good enough. You’re a doctor at a busy hospital. You may not be on the surgical rotation anymore, but you are required to be on call at all times. Please rectify that immediately.”

  “I’ll grab one today. Thank you for the reminder.”

  Jeff faced Grace with assessing eyes that snagged on the bandage around her upper arm. “You were injured?”

  “Oh.” Grace covered her wound gently with her hand. “It’s nothing major. Flesh wound from later in the night.”

  “Perhaps that’s why we’ve been given the order to let you go.”

  “What?” Her eyes bugged out of her head. “Let me go?”

  “Oh. Pardon me. I didn't mean permanently.”

  Grace exhaled in a rush. She didn’t know what she’d do without the hospital. She had money in the bank to last a few months, and she knew she’d easily get another job—she had great references—she just needed something to do. Always.

  Jeff pushed the glasses down the bridge of his nose to see her better. “You’re not required today at the clinic. You can have the day off. In fact, you must have the rest of the week off.”

  But it was only Wednesday. “I don’t understand.”

  “This morning we received word from management that staff who have accrued unpaid overtime must take time in lieu. Since you’re the doctor on staff with the most logged time outside rostered hours, you will be the first to take forced leave.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. Let me do my job. I have a week’s worth of rostered time to fill in.”

  “I don’t mind working.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Is there anyone else taking forced leave?”

  “At this stage, it’s just you.”

  No. Grace couldn’t accept that. She had work to do. People to help. Especially at the clinic. “Jeff, have I done something wrong?”

  “Au contraire, you’ve been doing everything right for too long. It’s a health and safety issue. Now—” Jeff stood and straightened his suit and tie. “I need to go and adjust the clinic schedule before it opens. Good day Doctor Go.”

  And then he left.

  Grace’s head whirled with possible explanations. Could it really be as simple as being an administration directive? She shook her head, overwhelmed with the possibility of having days with no work. What would she do?

  She didn’t want to go home to that empty apartment. Especially after the smoothie incident. It still felt wrong.

  She’d devote herself to the insurance cas
e. That’s what she’d do.

  Perhaps this was fortuitous after all. First Evan turning up as a patient, then seeing Sara alive, and now this. It was as though the fates were working for her. A light feeling of triumph swam in her mind and made her brave… or foolish.

  She had intended to swipe the iPad and check the patient records, but with the computer on and open to the Chief of Staff’s user account, she sat down to take advantage of the opportunity. She didn’t get far with only Sara’s first name. There were hundreds listed in the hospital record system. It was a long shot, but worth a try. The next step was to speak with the ME. She checked the history for the Jane Doe brought in on the day of the bombing.

  “Dead on Arrival. Brought in Dead,” Grace murmured quietly to herself as she typed in the search parameters and squinted at the screen. “Gotch-ya. Declined for post-mortem due to the nature of factors leading to death.” That wasn’t unusual for a victim of a building collapse. It was clear the cause of death. “Medical Examiner on duty: Dr. Bryan Callahan.”

  After checking the roster, she discovered Dr. Callahan still worked at Cardinal City General and his shift began in the mortuary at ten. Now the trick was to find something to do until then. She cracked her knuckles in front of her, pondering her backlog of to-do items. Number one: get a new phone. Number two: leave Jeff a little Post-it note of appreciation. He looked a little frazzled today, and she knew covering her roster wouldn’t be fun. Number three: chase down Evan and find out Sara’s full name. Maybe ask him about the smoothie. No other reason she needed to speak with him. Just leave last night as what it was because her list went on and on. She could now make lunch with Lilo and then check on Taco... See? Nothing to worry about. She had plenty to occupy herself with. No need to concern herself with her empty apartment at home.

  Fourteen

  Mary Lazarus walked around the corner of the basement unit at Lazarus House, bypassing the electrical workshop where Flint was. She gave him a quick wave as he soldered some sort of gadget together and kept walking until she reached the gym. The voices flowing into the hallway had her chest clenching in hopeful glee. The boys. Sparring together for the first time in months… perhaps years.