With a cry, I knocked out two of the men with my fists. One of them tried to wrap his hands around my neck. I introduced his groin to my knee. I backhanded another crony coming at me from behind. I fought hard. But there were too many of them, and soon I found myself being forced down and strapped into a chair.
I cried out, furious. One of the men tried to silence me with a slap. I caught his hand in my mouth, and bit down hard. He screamed, and punched me with his other hand.
Kaz was laughing. “She’s a feisty bat, isn’t she?”
“Eat a bowl of muck,” I spat.
“I’m giving you one chance,” said Kaz, “to apologize, and swear to get the bleak off my block. Maybe if you ask nicely, I might even consider adding you to the team. Obviously, after all this muck you’ve pulled, I won’t pay you squat for a couple of years, but hey! Consider it a small price for the use of your eyeballs.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Kiss my rump.”
Kaz sighed, and nodded at the crony to his right, a man who was dressed like a mechanic. The crony disappeared into the next room.
“I can never understand you young up-and-comers,” Kaz said. “In my days, a kid knew how to grovel. Grovelling, it’s an art form, y’know? Do it right and you can even own your own block like me, plus health insurance. But you kids, you want it all.” He shook his head, like he was disappointed in me.
The mechanic returned, in plastic overalls and a welder’s mask. He was holding a drill.
“Oh.” King looked worried now. “Who saw that coming?”
The mechanic started to walk towards me.
I struggled in my chair, till I tipped over and landed painfully on my side.
The drill whirred once. Twice.
“Somebody put a plastic bag under her head,” Kaz said. “I don’t want this mess on my carpet.”
“What the muck, King!” I screamed, thrashing.
“Why so fidgety, Fey?” King asked, his tone snide. “The real Fey wouldn’t be scared of a few two-bit punks.”
“What?” I cried. “What are you talking about?”
But suddenly, in that moment, I was more afraid of King than I was of the armed men around me. He was glaring at me, his eyes glowing like embers. I broke out in a cold sweat as the disorienting feeling of free-fall hit me. I felt like I was sinking through a black-hole.
The mechanic hunched over me, and his drill whirred to life. He drew closer. I thrashed harder.
“You’re not Fey,” King said. “You’re not Fey, are you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. The drill came closer.
“I want to hear you say it!” King yelled, spittle flying. “Say it. Say it!”
“I’m not Fey Watters!” I cried.
“What the muck are you two squawking about?” Kaz finally said, because by now, even the mechanic had stopped to look back at his boss in confusion.
The room was utterly silent, but for the high whir of the drill.
King’s shoulders fell, and his muscles relaxed. His eyes went sad. “Good,” he said, swallowing. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
The dissipater above let out a high-pitched screech. Then, it blew to pieces.
It was like slow motion: King’s ropes were snapping open, he was standing up, curling his fingers into the shape of blasters.
He shot up the entire room with his index fingers.
Every one of Kaz’s cronies collapsed to the floor, out cold—including the mechanic, whose drill fell units away from my left eye: whirring, spinning, clacking against the hard floor, still very much on.
“You bastards,” Kaz yelled, jumping to his feet and pointing a blaster. In one blink, King was standing in front of Kaz. He disarmed Kaz with one swift and undoubtedly painful twist of the criminal’s wrist, and then punched him out cold.
I writhed, till King came over to turn the drill off.
I was shaking uncontrollably, when he knelt beside me to untie my restraints.
“T-thank you,” I wavered as I sat up.
King nodded, and sat on the floor opposite me. He stared.
I couldn’t look at him. I avoided his eyes as I nursed my wrists. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I was just doing what I was hired to—“
“How dare you?” he whispered back, his voice laden with pain. “How dare you?”
I kept my eyes on the floor.
“Did you really think you could keep this charade up?” he asked. “That I wouldn’t figure it out?”
I didn’t speak.
He chuckled, bitterly. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been so insulted in all my life. The guys must really think I’m an idiot.”
“They just care about you,” I mumbled.
“Shut up!” He was trembling too, but it was from anger. No, rage. For a moment, I thought I could see smoke rising from his shoulders. Heat radiated from his body in intermittent, smoldering waves.
King stood up and closed his eyes, seemingly trying to keep his temper under control.
I remembered vaguely something King had mentioned earlier about a problem he suffered from: something about ‘rage’ and ripping out spines.
Muck.
Eventually, King returned to my side. “I’ll admit it, you all got me good at that psyche facility. I was so glad to see you—no, I was so glad to see Fey, that I didn’t give it a second thought. That’s why they sent you. They knew I’d only leave the facility if I had a reason to. I’m such an idiot.” He laughed and looked up.
“How long have you known?” I murmured.
“Long enough,” he said.
“When you proposed?”
“Wanted to know how far you were willing to go.” His eyes fell on my neck. He was staring at the necklace. “Obviously, quite far.”
I started to take the necklace off, but he stopped me with a hand. “No,” he said, his voice edged with anger. “Keep it on.”
“Keep it on?”
“You might as well. For now,” he said. “The last thing I need is the Director worrying about my emotional stability and taking me off the Puppeteer job.” His smile was derisive. “Guess you’ll be playing my wife-to-be for a little while longer.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Sure,” he said, standing up. “I hope however many credits my boss gave you were worth it.”
Boy, he knew how to rub it in.
Kaz was beginning to stir on the floor. King turned his attention to him.
“Hey,” he said, lifting Kaz by the collar and slapping him across the face a few times. “Wake up, ugly.”
Slowly, Kaz opened his eyes.
“Hello there,” King said, in an almost sing song voice. “Nice set-up you’ve got here. Very retro drug kingpin. Of course, we both know you’re not really a drug peddler. This is all a set-up. A very nice set-up, like I said, but doe, come’on, you’re not fooling the S.I.”
“What?” Kaz croaked.
“You’re hiding in plain sight. This drug business is a cover for your ID-forgery network.”
Kaz narrowed his eyes. “Are you high, man?”
“We know your alias is Eraser. And we know what you really do for a living, is make people disappear. We’ve known since forever, Mr. Kaz,” King said, very matter-of-factly. “We’ve just let you think you’re safe because you’ve unwittingly helped us capture quite a number of baddies over the years. Should I call off a few of your clients to prove it? Red Mask, the Empress, Ronnie Gulvato, the Pin Twins, Bloodluste, Oh-pa Tamagache, the Yellow Queen, the Cannibals, Ire Mack, the Green Queen…”
With every name King mentioned, Kaz’s pretense of ignorance melted away, giving way to anger.
“Now though, I am chasing after somebody who makes everyone on that list look like a saint, so I apologize for the lack of tact,” King said. “In the last two days, you have been approached by one Massah Tsukr, a wealthy criminal from K’har. He would’ve wanted the works: new ID, travel papers, new accounts, new ever
ything. You are going to tell me every detail on those documents you prepared for him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kaz sniffed.
“Of course you do. Now, be a good little criminal and do what you’ve always done,” King said. “Lead us to the target.”
Kaz spat in King’s face.
“Rotten bastard of a whore,” Kaz hissed.
King sighed as the spittle slid down his face. “That was so unnecessary.”
“Still-born fetus of a diseased cow,” Kaz roared.
“You’ve got a way with words, I’ll give you that,” King muttered. Suddenly, he pressed a glowing thumb against Kaz’s forehead, and there was a loud hissing sound. Kaz screamed as the air was filled with the smell of burning flesh.
“I will burn right through to your brain,” King said above the criminal’s bloodcurdling cries, “if you don’t start cooperating.”
“Drown yourself, you piece of muck,” Kaz roared.
King pressed against Kaz’s forehead harder. Kaz screamed louder. The smell was making me sick; I feared I would throw up. King eventually stopped, and waited for Kaz to talk.
Kaz panted, and said, “I would rather die, than tell you anything. The Eraser does not talk. The Eraser never talks.”
King smiled. “Yeah, probably not. I’m not very good at this, to be honest. But I have a very persuasive colleague back at base. He’s quite the conversationalist. Perhaps you’d rather talk to him.”
“The Eraser…” Kaz spat, “…never talks.”
King nodded, with complete seriousness. “Yes,” he said, “they all say that at first.” He zapped Kaz on the forehead with a finger, and the criminal passed out. He threw him over his shoulder, and walked out of the room.
I followed King.
When we broke out into the morning air, I asked, “Are we going to the Beta base?”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” King said. “I am returning to base with this witness. And you are going to go home, because I cannot stand to look at you any more today.”
I held King by the arm, and turned him around. “Hey, I know it doesn’t mean much now,” I said, as sincerely as I could, “but I am really sorry.”
King looked down at me. “Don’t be,” he said. “Like you said, you were just doing what you were told. Holding you responsible would assume that you’re actually part of this team.” He paused. “You’re not.”
His words stung, which surprised me because I knew they were true. Maybe, I had just grown used to King’s kindness as Fey. Whatever the case, King’s coldness brought to me an unexpected pain.
“I’m really, really sorry,” was all I could manage.
King’s expression was indifferent. “Get out of my way, Arra Everglade.”
I nodded weakly, and stepped back. For the second time in two days, King left me standing alone.
CHAPTER 43
The taxi that took me to the Beta base did not show up for two days. By the third day, I was incredibly antsy. I was bored out of my skull, and I hadn’t seen Evon in a while. I knew I was losing it when I missed the hallucinations of my deceased best friend.
When I spotted the taxi from my bedroom window on the morning of the third day, I didn’t bother taking a bath. I washed my face, threw on some clothes and a jacket, and run downstairs, afraid that the taxi might leave me.
But the vehicle was waiting patiently for me when I got down. I dived into it, and we were off.
I stepped into the agency, expecting to dance the awkward-dance with King. I should’ve dreaded seeing him, as I walked in. Instead, a piece of me wanted to see him. Not to apologize again—that would likely just annoy him. I was going to leave that alone. I think what I wanted was for him to look at me again without the anger. For reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on, I wanted him to not be mad at me anymore.
But when I got to the conference room, only Po was there, waiting for me.
“You’re late,” she said.
“You didn’t pick me up for two days,” I countered. “Didn’t know if I was coming here. Um, where’s King?”
“Meeting with some informants around Aurora,” she answered. “He won’t be back for a few weeks.”
Weeks.
“Oh,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “He didn’t tell you that?”
“I’m sure he mentioned it. I must’ve forgotten,” I said.
Po didn’t look like she believed me. “Is everything alright?”
I nodded, hopefully not too eagerly.
“You know,” she said, “that if you even suspect that he’s on to you, you have to tell me, right?”
I hesitated, and then nodded again. “Everything is fine. He’s uh, really excited about the wedding.”
Po ignored my last statement, and rose out of her seat. She gestured for me to follow her. We walked down the corridor that led to the Absolute Simulator. Except, when we stepped through the round metal door of the simulator, we found ourselves in the observation half of an interrogation room.
“This simulator must save you a fortune in building costs,” I muttered.
I stepped closer to the one-way mirrored wall dividing us from the interview room. Kaz, the Eraser, was chained and fastened to the opposite wall. His body was bruised all over, and his clothes were bloody. His hair was mussed. Kaz appeared to be sleeping.
Imp walked in through a door on the other side. He was wielding a knife. My heart thumped, as Imp approached him. But Imp didn’t touch Kaz with the knife. Instead, he looked towards the mirror and nodded.
Po took out a remote from her pocket, and pushed a button.
There was a sudden roar from the interview room, dulled by the diving glass. But the roar must have been very loud because Kaz’s head jerked up immediately. One of his eyes was swollen to the size of a camelus egg; he probably couldn’t see through it. I wondered if he ever would again. His brown skin was sickly, and he looked like he hadn’t slept since King captured him.
“You’re torturing him,” I said.
“We began with physical torture. Now we’re on psychological,” Po said. “Pain couldn’t make him talk, but maybe sleep deprivation will.”
Kaz started to weep. I couldn’t hear his crying, but I watched as his body heaved uncontrollably. No tears. Perhaps, he had cried them all out.
Imp waited for Kaz to calm down. After about five moments, Kaz seemed to have fallen asleep again. Imp nodded at us. Po pushed the button.
Dull roar.
Kaz jerked awake, eyes vacant, saliva dripping down from his lips. He started to cry again.
“I can’t watch this,” I whispered, sick to my stomach.
“Just getting you up to speed,” Po said. “ABBY, partition.”
Kaz and Imp disappeared, as did the interrogation room. In fractions, we were standing in infinite white.
“We’re resuming your training,” Po said. “You make a lousy Beta agent. You’re still unable to do half the things you should be able to do. And the last thing any of us need is to babysit a weakling on the field. Anyway,” she added, with some detectable reluctance, “you need to be convincingly skillful to maintain your cover as Fey Watters.”
“Of course,” I said.
“But I will not be teaching you,” she said.
That surprised me. “Really? Why not?” I asked, secretly pleased.
“Do you have to ask?” she said, with enough frost to douse the sun. “I’ve asked the Director, and she has agreed to allow me to temporarily transfer my teaching duties to Kay Witti.”
Best news I had heard in forever.
“Hey sweet,” Kay said behind me.
I turned around to smile at my favourite member of the team. Kay was in sweat pants, and a sleeveless shirt that I could practically hear screaming across his wide rippling muscles. He took his headphones off, and grinned down at me.
“Try not to frustrate him as much as you did me,” Po said, before walking through a susp
ended black hole and closing the door behind her.
“Ey there, how’s it livin’ sweet,” Kay asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I think.”
“You ready to up your skills?”
I nodded, feeling more enthusiastic about training than I’d ever done.
“Cosmic. Let’s begin with mana control,” he said. “All y’got to do is follow my instructions.”
I nodded again, and we began.
Over the next five days, Kay held our training sessions in the vast white emptiness of the Absolute Simulator. He was surprisingly sober when he was teaching.
“Mana is all around us,” he lectured. “Everything’s got mana. Including you. The key to mana control is the interaction between your own bio-mana, and the natural mana which surrounds you.”
I nodded. “Po told me that.”
“Yeah, but I doubt she told you that your problem isn’t a lack of control. It’s a lack of restraint.”
“A lack of restraint?”
“Think of your bio-mana as a canal with two open ends, and think of the natural mana as surrounding water. This water flows into the canal one way, and comes out the other. Now, what most betas struggle with is slowing down the current enough to control and redistribute it. You on the other hand, are trying so hard to control the flow, that you’ve unwittingly trapped the water in your canal, and blocked it from both ends.”
I frowned. “Are we still talking about mana here?”
“You obsessed with control, Arra?”
I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Are you?”
I thought about the way Mammy had always said my destiny was solely my responsibility, that the only way to succeed was to take full reigns of every facet of my life. I thought about how I had abused sleeping pills for the past three years, never bothering to see a doctor because, I was sure I could ‘handle it’. I thought about how I had insisted on pursuing the Ripper case, even when it was clearly no longer my department’s jurisdiction. And finally, the way I had handled losing Evon—by joining a team of highly skilled beta agents and agreeing to aid in deceiving their most dangerous and mentally unstable member.
“Maybe a tiny bit,” I said.
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