by Angel Lawson
He nods. “It m-m-may take a while.”
“No worries.” He immediately pulls up the footage and Astrid walks into the adjoining room. The bedroom. She’s pretty sure he hasn’t slept on the bed—the covers are straight and perfect. But the sight of the plush mattress and fuzzy blanket on top calls to her and she yawns.
“I’m just going to hang out in here for a minute, okay?” she calls into the other room. She gets a grunt in reply and burrows under the blanket.
So far, she’s capitalized on her vacation. Late-night board games, early morning runs, and a make-out session in the woods. Then back for breakfast and the sexiest bath she’s ever taken. She’s relaxed but worn out and Casper has the quietest little cave in the house, perfect for a quiet nap.
Nuzzling her face into the soft, down pillow she closes her eyes and sleeps.
5
Astrid
She wakes to the discombobulated feeling that happens when you sleep during the day. The room is dark but bright light comes from under the curtains. There’s a weight next to her, the smell of soap, and the easy rhythm of a heartbeat.
Rolling over slowly, she tries not to react with surprise at finding Casper in the bed next to her.
He’s asleep, curled up facing her, and it’s the first time she’s been so close to him in a moment of quiet. She takes him in, his long eyelashes and sharp cheekbones. Her eyes linger over the pink of his lips and the way one of his hands reaches in the empty space between them. His nails are short, his fingers long and thin—elegant is the word.
With her empathic abilities though, what hits her the hardest is his spirit right now. He’s calm. Peaceful and more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. She craves to touch him—place her fingers against his palm and find out what happens in his closed-off brain. But she knows if she does it without his permission, she’ll lose the little bit of trust she has, and it’s not worth it. So instead she lies quietly and soaks in the unexpected moment.
She’s dozing off when a light tap on the door rouses her again. She slides off the bed and walks to the door, looking over her shoulder to make sure Casper didn’t wake up. Nope. He’s out like a light.
Opening the door, Quinn stands on the other side, his eyes instantly darting to the bed. They meet hers again, and she pushes him on the chest to go into the hall.
“He’s sleeping?”
“Yeah.”
“With you?”
“Next to me. I was just taking a nap.”
“Huh.” He doesn’t frown. He just looks…perplexed.
“Huh, what?”
Quinn leans against the hallway wall. “Draco says he doesn’t sleep. Hardly ever.”
That news isn’t a surprise. Casper is always lurking around, playing video games, digging around in the dark web. He often looks tired with dark rings under his pretty, soulful eyes.
“Maybe he decided to relax too. I know I needed a chance to just chill out.”
“Maybe.” He’s not convinced.
“What then?” she asks.
“Maybe it’s just you that makes him comfortable enough to let down his guard long enough to relax.”
There’s nothing more that Astrid wants than to bring Casper into the team. Like, really bond them together. It’s not about sex. She has a feeling that may not be something he’s into or even wants. She really doesn’t know. All of the survivors have their own damage and Casper has more than the others. She just wants to help him heal.
She changes the subject. “Did you need me for something?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” he says, holding out her phone. “Found this on the kitchen counter. It’d been ringing—it’s Jensen.”
“He called?” She’s surprised.
“A couple of times.”
She inhales and says, “Shit. Do I have to?”
It’s been really nice not dealing with life stuff for a few days and she’s not ready to go back.
“No,” he says. “You don’t. They pushed us out and he lied to us. So many times. We’re taking a break and doing that means you can say no when you want to.”
She looks at the red dot on her phone, telling her she has three messages from Jensen. She swipes at it with her thumb and erases them.
If he’s got a problem, he’ll have to figure out how to fix it on his own.
6
Owen
If ignoring Jensen’s phone call is bothering, Astrid there’s no way to tell. The last call came a day ago and she’s put her phone in the kitchen drawer and hasn’t looked again.
Owen is pretty impressed.
Getting Astrid to relax, have fun, and push her obligations aside isn’t easy. She tries. She does, with little things like going bowling or bocce ball at the bar, but he knows there’s always an edge. He feels it—they all feel it, and it’s why it’s so important to him to keep her relaxed and connected.
Quinn told him about finding Casper asleep next to her in the bed. It’s a big move, one that may help them get closer. She’s determined to bond with them all—and he approves, which is why he and Quinn have done everything they can to help her and Draco take the big step in their relationship.
Seriously though, it’s time for them to just fuck already.
He hears a grunt across the room and looks up. Casper is sitting on the big leather couch by the fireplace. Yes, in a common area. It’s new and no one is discussing it. He has his headphones on and until this moment has been staring intently at his laptop with the constant clickity-clacking of the keyboard.
Everyone else is down by the lake, so Owen walks over. “Everything okay?”
“A-A-Astrid asked me to look up the guy she and D-D-Draco saw in the woods.”
He’d heard about this. “The hunter?”
“Y-y-yeah.”
“Did you find something?” He sits next to Casper and the man pushes the laptop in his direction. The screen is paused on a black and white video. He presses play.
Owen squints at the screen trying to make out what is happening. “Is that a bear? Mauling a smaller bear?”
Casper snorts. “D-D-Draco and Astrid. D-d-d-ry humping in the woods.”
Owen’s eyes pop wide open. Sure enough. “Wow. Okay.”
The scene unfolds, the two of them making out against the tree, stopping and confronting the hunter. They watch the exchange and it takes place exactly as they’d described. Owen is about to point this out when Casper holds his hand up.
“W-w-watch.”
They let the hunter go and the screen splits into two different screens. One follows Astrid and Draco down to the lake as they continue on with their run. The other picks up the hunter. The small man heads back off the property, but darts up a small side hill.
“How many cameras does this place have?”
“A-a-a fucking lot.”
The hunter, gun in hand, runs up the hill to a small, expensive black car sitting on the edge of the property. A man in a dark uniform gets out of the front seat. Another rushes around to open the back door, where you could see the silhouette of a man. Casper pauses the screen and enlarges the man in the car. Owen squints, because the quality is grainy and it worsens with the enlargement, but he makes out the shadow of dark hair and a stocky body.
“L-l-look familiar?”
“Yeah, a little bit. Who is that?”
“I-I-I could be wrong, b-b-b-ut I think that’s Blaze.”
His heart stops beating. “He’s dead.”
Casper shakes his head and the video resumes. The hunter hops inside and the door shuts, then they drive off. The camera loses the vehicle once it goes off- property. He grabs a partial image of the license plate.
“Do you really think that’s him?”
“N-n-no proof, but I can dig around some. Death records or police reports from that n-n-night.”
Owen claps him on the back. “Good catch. Holy shit, if Blaze is still alive and knows where we are…” His eyes dart to Casper’s. “Do we tell her? What if this is
what Jensen was calling about?”
The goblin is silent. It’s a tough call and Owen knows that neither of them wants to stress her out. She’d finally begun to relax. He exhales and says, “Okay, let’s do it like this. You find what you can about Blaze and the hunter who obviously isn’t a hunter. I’ll see if I can figure out what Jensen was really calling about. Once we know, we tell her.”
Casper nods, already down the rabbit hole of his computer.
Owen stands and walks over to the massive window that looks down on the lake. He can see Astrid and Quinn lying on the dock, sun beating down while Draco tools around in a kayak. For the first time in months, everyone is at peace. He doesn’t want to be the one that shatters that.
Something nags at him and he crosses the room, opening the kitchen drawer. He grabs Astrid’s phone and checks the screen.
Twenty-five messages.
All from Jensen.
He grimaces and looks at Casper.
“B-b-bad?”
“It can’t be good.” He looks down at his friends by the water. Seeing Astrid in a bikini isn’t just awesome for him—it’s awesome for her to be wearing a different kind of ’suit’ for once. “Guess the vacation’s over, huh?”
Casper nods, snapping his laptop shut. It was good while it lasted, but they all knew it was going to end sooner than later. That’s the curse of being a superhero; there’s no such thing as time off.
7
Astrid
The weird thing about saving a city is that it doesn’t make people calmer. Instead, a ripple of fear rolls through the community, exposing nerves and tension. People are scared. They’re panicky. They’re tired. If you need a team of genetically superior, masked vigilantes running your town, things have reached an epic, destructive level.
And that causes a problem. A problem Astrid and her team are forced to handle.
“Echo! Watch your back!”
She ducks and spins, finding herself face to face with a terrified and angry masked man carrying a shovel. He swings it at her, but she kicks the wooden handle, snapping it in two. He lunges again, swiping at her with the rusted, pointed top. Another kick, a jab and a spin. Astrid disarms him and shakes her head. His dark eyes widen, glinting in the lamplight.
“Go,” she tells him, feeling the fear radiating off his body. “Before you get hurt.”
He drops the garden tool and runs.
It’s one thing to battle men and women with abilities similar to her own, on an even playing field, but basic men? It’s a lose-lose situation.
“Pan needs a little help.” Casper’s tinny voice directs. “He’s—”
“I’ve got him.” She no longer has to look for her teammates; between the mask and her senses, she can track them. Pan is half a block away behind a shield, trying to protect some kids that stumbled into the mob. Charger is the opposite direction, stabilizing the live wires from an electrical pole. Draco is single-handedly keeping the two sides out here from killing one another.
The two sides. The Swamp vs. The City.
“Someone tell me again why we left that mountain top?”
“Get through this, babe, and we’ll go back.”
Somehow Astrid doubted that. They left for a few days and the whole fucking place fell apart.
The Harbor Line falls in the middle and that’s where the riots started. They’d been staying out of it, lying low since the event at the stadium. The whole city knew what they did and what side they were on, but that didn’t keep tensions from broiling between the affluent and the poor in the community. A line was drawn and neither wanted to co-exist. Out of building tension came the riot; the two sides covered their faces in masks and took to the streets.
Her team had no choice but to come out and stop it. They’re trying, but people are just so angry.
Astrid pushes through the crowd or tries to, at least, but the mob is too thick. She looks up and taps the schematics on her mask. A diagram of the height and distance to the metal sign appears.
“You’ve got it, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe.”
“Why not? You are a total babe. I’m just calling it like I see it.”
Astrid’s only half listening, getting to a running start. She has to plant her foot at the exact angle to push off the sign and clear the group surrounding Pan. He’s got four kids back there and she feels the hummingbird flutter of their panicked hearts.
“Pan,” she says, running hard and fast.
“Yeah?” She can sense the worry in his voice.
“Be there in two seconds, okay?”
“Thank god, you know I can’t with little kids.” He’s bluffing, of course. Owen basically is a little kid—in a super-hot, lethal body. But the nervous vibration in his voice gives him away. He’s scared.
Her foot hits the sign and she goes airborne, flipping over the heads of the crowd. She lands perfectly, one knee bent, her fingers touching the ground.
“Nailed it!”
She stands, eyeing the wavy surface of Pan’s shield. A sharp sting bites at her neck, and she slaps at it.
“Echo?”
Her vision blurs. “Cas…”
She takes a step forward. Strong hands grasp her arms and she looks over her shoulder, but her vision is too blurry.
“Echo, get out of there. Now.”
“Chargur?” Her words slur. But she knows it isn’t him. She feels him across the Harbor Line. The person holding her…she blinks and tries to see the face, but there’s nothing but the same black mask the rioters are wearing.
“Echo!”
Her vision spins and her arms and legs feel heavy. The hands move to pick her up and the sensation of falling limp is the last thing she’s aware of before the world turns black.
8
Astrid
Astrid wakes in the dark. Hot. Cramped.
How long has passed, she doesn’t know, but disorientation rolls through her body, as though she’s been asleep for days. Her arms and legs ache with stiffness and when she reaches out, she hits something hard.
A wall.
She feels around, the surface is smooth, like plastic, and it’s on all sides. She’s shifts but can’t move—but she can push up to a standing position.
In a movie with a girl captured like this, the first thing she would do is start yelling—screaming for help, but that’s foolish. Whoever drugged her (she was drugged, no doubt) and locked her away isn’t going to place her where she can get help. She touches the spot on her neck where the sting spread, drugged, she gets that now. It’s tender with a bruise.
Who did this?
One name pops in her head.
Rowe.
Fucking. Stupid. Bastard Rowe.
His name makes her want to beat her fists against the inside of the box.
Taking a deep breath and refocusing her mind, she places her hands on the walls. She’s a superhero, for Christ’s sake. She has powers, and while she’s freaking out about the box and Rowe, she hasn’t even tried to use her abilities. Again, she inhales and exhales and searches for life; smell, sound, emotions. She opens her eyes and stares into the dark. Nothing comes back. Not even the slightest vibration, and that’s when it hits her.
She’s in an echo-proof box.
Her stomach twists with a newfound fear. She’s always had her echo—always—it’s like a second itchy skin.
For the first time, she wants to really yell. To scream. To call for her team. Where are they? Do they know she’s gone? Are they looking for her?
She’s still wearing her suit. Casper? She reaches for her mask but it’s gone. They cut her off. Leaning against the wall, she slides to the floor, overcome with anxiety.
Whoever’s taken her knows who she is and what she can do and they’ve found the two ways to dismantle her; take away her power and take away her team.
Dammit. She fell asleep again. What else is there to do, other than panic? She stands, feeling the increasing tightness in her arms and legs. Mov
ing them up and down, she tries not to focus on the lack of space, the darkness, and the void of her echo. Tries and fails.
Whoever has her locked in here--Rowe, his mystery boss, or some other villain--they know how to get to her. It’s working. She hates it.
Her foot knocks against something. A plastic box. She opens it and finds a bottle and two packages. Even she can’t make out what it is because of the dark, but she’s starving and definitely dehydrated. She opens the bottle and takes a sniff. Water—at least, she thinks so. She doesn’t have a choice.
After consuming half the bottle, she rips the first package open with her teeth. In the airtight box she’s assaulted with the scent of wheat and sugar. Whatever, she’ll take it.
Her mouth is full when she hears the first sound—the first voice—since arriving.
“Good morning, Echo.”
“Hello?” she swallowed the unappealing food. “Who is this?”
The voice continued. You’ve been chosen to participate in a series of tests to establish the extent of your abilities. When the door opens, you’ll have thirty seconds to acclimate yourself to your simulated environment. When you hear the signal, the test will begin. Your job is to become the sole survivor. Sole. There can only be one.”
“What? Job? Who the hell are you?” Astrid finally shouts and bangs on the wall.
“Good luck, and hopefully we’ll see you on the other side.”
“Who’s we? Who are you?” Testing seems a little beyond Rowe.
She’s in the process of swallowing the panic when she hears a hiss and light floods the box. She covers her eyes and realizes one side of the box is open, a panel swung outward like a door. Astrid blinks, adjusting her eyes, feeling fresh but muggy air on her face. She gasps, gulping it in, not realizing how stuffy and stale the air in the box had turned.
Fog swirls in the air outside and she still keeps quiet, opening her echo, searching for anything. She catches a heartbeat and similar, quiet gasps for air. She presses her hands against the walls, realizing for the first time she’s still in her supersuit. Everything but her mask. She touches her hips. And her tools.
